


Bounty Hunters

by PickledTeeth



Category: Red Dead Redemption, Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Avalanches, Awkwardness, Beating, Blood, Bounty Hunting, Camping, Drinking, Dynamite, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Explosions, Friends to Lovers, Gunshots, He's the bad guy, Horses, I promise, M/M, More tags to be added, Needed for plot, OC, Oblivious to the other's feelings, Slow Burnish, Slow start but hehe it speeds up, Smoking, Swearing, The usual dance around your feelings bullshit, Torture, Two dudes being bros, fistfights, gunfights, sloppy kisses, travelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2019-10-10 17:49:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17430632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PickledTeeth/pseuds/PickledTeeth
Summary: Arthur stared at the flighty young man for a moment. Kieran sat on a log, scrubbing a saddle with nervous glances in every direction.  Fresh off the tree three weeks ago and still side-eyeing everyone.  Arthur couldn't blame him.  If he was in Kieran's position, he'd be afraid to even close his eyes for a moment.  The man was too nervous to really gage how he would react to being approached by the same man who'd thrown him on the back of his horse and had threatened to break every bone in his body. He remembered how the O'Driscoll tried to reason with him to let him go, that he wouldn't say anything, he'd keep quiet. But Arthur knew better.  O'Driscolls were notorious for betraying people, breaking promises. He knew that firsthand.Arthur ran a hand down his face, the stubble of his chin scratching his hand.  So why was he even contemplating bringing Kieran with him?





	1. Bounty Calls

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyy. Haven't seen a whole lotta Kieran fics out there, so I decided to contribute to the pool of Red Dead Redemption fics. If you want, a kudos and comment is very much appreciated!  
> Unedited, so all mistakes weren't seen and completely mine. Trust me, the summary is better than the story itself.

The sun was hot.  Too hot to be even manageable. It beat down mercilessly on the small town of Valentine, making all the residents overheated and cranky. Women cooled themselves with their hand-held fans, men trudged through the mud streets from the rain they had the previous day, sweaty and looking absolutely miserable. 

Arthur, himself, wiped his brow with the back of his hand and cursed the weather. Between his legs his horse, affectionally named Buckaroo for obvious reasons, breathed heavily, struggling to cool himself down. Arthur was beginning to wish he'd just gone bareback that day just to save his horse the extra work. 

"I know boy, I'm sorry." Arthur cooed and patted the brown dappled stallion's neck. Buckaroo flicked an ear to him, obviously not impressed he'd been taken away from his meal of green grass and, on top of that, being ridden on the hottest day of the week. Buckaroo snorted and pawed the ground, irritated. 

Arthur took a deep breath in, kicking his horse into a walk. The Sheriffs office is what he was after. When he came into town the other day to drop off a buck for money, he'd seen a bounty, a high bounty for a man hiding in the Grizzlies, posted outside the building. The money was probably about $100, but Arthur was too far away and too focused on selling his catch for money to really notice. 

 _An opportunity_ , he'd thought as he handed the dead buck to the butcher. 

Now he hoped nobody had taken the poster before him. 

The camp needed money. Bad. Supplies were running low, they were conserving their last few precious bullets, and everyone was just short of selling their own organs to keep everyone fed. Small animals hunted and caught in snares barely kept them by, and Charles had yet to return from his hunting trip with Hosea. They needed every nickel and dime they could get their hands onto. 

Arthur had used the bounty poster as an excuse to leave camp. Tensions were high, and Susan Grimshaw was short patienced. And when Susan Grimshaw was short on patience all hell broke loose and everyone paid the price. Arthur had wanted to get out of there before she blew up. 

Arthur dismounted his horse, and took the reigns, tying them to the single hitching post in front of the Sherrifs Office. Buckaroo nudged him, wanting the usual small treat. Arthur patted the stallions neck. 

"Maybe later boy." Arthur promised and he swore he saw Buckaroo roll his eyes. 

Arthur entered through the door, covered in mud and sweating like a stuck pig. The Office was even hotter than outside, muggy and hard to breath. 

"Well if it ain't you again..." The Sheriff spoke, and Arthur turned to see him sitting at his desk, feet propped up and bottle in hand. "Take if you came for a bounty?" 

Arthur stepped inside further, tipping his hat in a sort of hello.

"Saw a poster the other day bout a man hiding up in the Grizzlies. Thought I'd take a shot at it." Arthur gestured with a lax wave towards the exact same poster with the exact same angry face on the wall. 

Black blocky letters read:

**WANTED JOSHUA LAKE**

**REWARD $400$**  

Arthur was sure his eyes popped out of his head. He did a double take to make sure he wasn't seeing things. 

"Jesus." He mouthed. 

The money was enough for the camp to afford supplies five times over. He'd hit the jackpot. 

The Sheriff also did a double take, which Arthur found quite odd, and he set down his bottle. 

"Mr. Lake?" He sounded surprised. The Sheriff stood up, boots hitting the ground with a dull thud and chair creaking. He jabbed his thumb at the aging poster. "You want to go after Joshua Lake." 

Arthur nodded slowly, eyebrows pinched together 

" _The_  Joshua Lake?" 

Arthur made a point of walking over to the poster and taking it off the wall. 

"Yes...am I suppose to know about 'im?" Arthur inspected the flimsy yellow paper further. 

Wanted for...Rape, Murder, Cannabilism, and Torture. 

Wow. Suddenly that four hundred wasn't seeming so high. 

"Joshua Lake is a killer, a dangerous, cunning one at that. Thirty people have died by his hand alone and that's not to mention all the ones he's raped and tortured."

"And?" 

" _And?_ Thirty people Mister. Thirty innocent people." The Sheriff wiped his sweaty face in what Arthur thought was exasperation, sorta like what Hosea did when he was tired of Arthur's shit. The man sat back down at his desk, and gestured to the bounty poster in Arthur's hands, "That poster's been up on that wall for three years. He's killed every single bounty hunter that's been after him." 

Arthur arched an eyebrow.  Every single bounty hunter huh? He didn't feel dissuaded in the slightest.

Chuckling, Arthur folded up the old poster carefully and slipped it in his satchel. 

"Well, Sheriff, consider this your lucky day." Arthur said and he walked over to the door. He stopped just by the Sheriff, leaning against the wooden desk. "His body will soon be at your office my friend, and all thirty of those souls will be put to rest. "  

The Sheriff nodded to Arthur's satchel. 

"You already know he's in the Grizzlies. He's camping out near Isabella Lake, according to a passerby. But he's got protection now." 

"That so?" 

"Indeed my friend. They call themselves the Grizzly Gang." 

Arthur swallowed the urge to laugh. The _Grizzly Gang_? How long did it take for them to come up with that, he wondered with a slight smirk. 

"Thank you kindly Sheriff." 

The Sheriff smiled, raising his bottle in a sort of cheer. 

"Happy hunting Mister." 

Arthur waved a hand in a thank you, opening the door and walking out down the steps, poster heavy in his satchel, and his mood lifted just a bit. 

Four hundred dollars could do so much for the camp. They could buy more ammunition they so desperately needed, and more medical supplies for Strauss' wagon. They could send someone into town to pick up more food for the camp, and they wouldn't have to nickel and dime everything. 

 _Dutch will be happy about this_ , Arthur thought as he mounted Buckaroo.

This bounty would set Dutch at ease for a little bit, at least until they get their next big score. 

Reaching down, Arthur patted the stallions neck and kicked him into a trot out of town, near the train station. The train station was empty, no horses waiting outside, hitch to the posts.  The carriage driver who took people to nearby towns was nowhere in sight.  His horses stamped the ground angrily, irritated at having to wait in this kind of heat. Arthur felt bad for them.  

"Now let's just get back to camp." Arthur mumbled. Supplies, food, and warm clothes would be needed for this journey.  And ammunition it sounded like.  Looks like he had to prepare for a fight. 

 _Better bring someone along too just to make sure I don't get shot_. 

The sky was cloudless, much to Arthur's disdain.  No cloud cover meant blistering sunburns.  His hands were already turning red, and rubbing raw from the reigns.  _Shoulda brought some damn gloves_ , he cursed himself. 

Unsticking his shirt from his back, Arthur kicked Buckaroo into a slow gallop. Buckaroo was sweating underneath him, nostrils wide to try and cool down his body. 

Now Arthur was _really_  wishing he'd gone bareback. 

The road was fairly quiet, save for the few carriages that rolled by with heavy shires and clysdales pulling them, sweat dripping down their bodies and foam spewing from their open mouths. Arthur could only watch and feel bad for them. 

The entrance to the camp came up, and it was a welcome sight. Finally they'd be in the shade of trees. Arthur slowed Buckaroo down as they passed through the two trees marking the old path he'd taken that morning. 

Arthur felt a slight breeze blow through the trees, shaking the leaves. Body cooling down, Arthur couldn't help but a small sigh of relief. 

Usually the person on guard would shout out...

"Who's there?" A voice demanded angrily.

There it was.

Javier came into view, face twisted in a frown and gun gripped in his hands. 

"It's me dumbass." Arthur shouted back, and Javier relaxed, giving a friendly wave. 

"Glad to see you back so soon. Got anything good?" 

Arthur stopped Buckaroo by the Mexican man. Buckaroo lowered his head with a snort and ripped at the few blades of grass peeking through the dirt. 

"Got a possible lead. 400 dollar bounty for a man named Joshua Lake. Sheriff said he's dangerous." 

"Who?" 

"That's what I said. You wanna come along?" Arthur asked, and Javier shook his head. 

"Can't compañero. Got a lead about a house north of Strawberry apparently filled with money. Dutch wants me to check it out after I'm done guard duty." Javier shrugged in what seemed like an apology. Arthur kicked his horse into a walk. 

"Okay. You have fun with that." 

Javier smiled and turned to get back to his post. 

"You have fun with your bounty Arthur. Good luck." 

Arthur waved him goodbye over his shoulder. 

The camp was beginning to come into view, grey canvas tents and caravans peeking through the trees. Arthur could hear Susan Grimshaw before he even saw her. 

"Mary-Beth I swear to the Lord above if you don't get your ass up this instant-" 

Arthur entered the camp and ducked his head, hoping to avoid Mrs. Grimshaw's wrath.  Arthur hitched Buckaroo to one of the posts. 

"You did good boy." Arthur reached for an apple and fed it to the stallion. Buckaroo nickered approvingly. Arthur gripped the saddle's front synch and loosened it for the horse, hoping it might help him cool down. 

Arthur turned away to find Dutch. Now that he took a closer look, the camp seemed...emptier than usual. He knew Charles and Hosea were gone, but John, Bill and Sean and Lenny were gone too. 

Arthur checked over the camp twice from where he was standing, just to be sure he didn't miss anyone sitting at any of the tables or hiding in the shade under the trees. 

"Welcome back Arthur!" Tilly greeted happily as she walked by. 

"Hello Tilly." Arthur said absentmindedly. He tore his eyes away from the camp and looked to Tilly. 

Odd.

"Any idea where everyone is?" 

Tilly stopped, thought for a moment, hands on her hips.   

"I know John, Lenny and them went to town to get supplies." 

He was just there. He didn't see any of them. 

"That's funny, I was just there and didn't see any of 'em ride by." Arthur echoed his thoughts.  Tilly tapped a finger against her lips, eyebrows pinching together.  

"Maybe they went another way." She sounded unsure, confused almost, and she frowned.

"Maybe. Anyway, thanks Tilly." 

She beamed at him and turned back to what she was doing. 

Arthur found Dutch sitting by his tent reading a book, leg crossed over the other and posture relaxed. One of Hosea's crime novels was in his hands, Arthur was mildly surprised. 

Dutch looked up as Arthur approached, smile on his face. 

"Surprised to see you back so soon. Find anything good?" 

"Uh-huh. Found something that mabye worth the time. A bounty of 400 dollars." 

Dutch's eyebrows shot up. He put a bookmark on a page, and set it down on his lap, intrigued. 

"400 dollars...I think that is definately worth our time Arthur." 

"Sheriff said he's dangerous. Got a gang to protect him, and I thought I should take someone with me, but..." Arthur gestured around the camp with a dramatic sweep of his arm, "Nobody's here." 

Dutch tilted his head. 

"Take Micah." 

Micah. Arthur frowned sourly. He didn't trust that man as far as he could throw him. 

"Or I wait till everyone gets back." Arthur said, and Dutch shook his head no. He whipped out a tiny gold pocket watch, the ticking filling the temporary silence. 

"They won't be back for a few hours. I got em in town getting supplies and finding new leads." Dutch motioned towards Micah, "If you're lookin for companionship, take Micah along." 

Arthur glanced over to where Micah was sitting and grimaced. No way. 

"We ain't exactly on the best terms after he shot up half the town of Strawberry for a few guns." 

Dutch raised an eyebrow. 

"Now you're just being picky, Arthur." 

"I ain't being picky." Arthur snapped. It occurred to him he probably sounded like a small, unwilling child. "Micah ain't the best man for this, Dutch. I'd rather take the O'Driscoll than him." 

Kieran Duffy, the name stuck in his head.  Arthur saw Dutch peer over to where the man was scrubbing saddles. Hair unkept, scruffy looking, he was nervously glancing around at the slightest sound. 

"Then take him." 

"Excuse me?" Arthur chuckled, and stopped when he realized Dutch wasn't laughing. "W-wait...yer serious." 

Dutch stood up, book in hand, and he rolled his eyes, stalking towards his tent entrance.  

"Of course I'm serious Arthur. He needs to start earning his keep 'round here. Start pulling his weight like the rest of us." Dutch halted at the tent entrance, "See what he's made of, Arthur. I trust you can keep him alive for that long." 

"Might kill him before he gets shot Dutch." 

Dutch smiled, and sat down inside his cot, opening his book to start reading again; a signal the conversation was done. 

Arthur sighed, looking between Micah and the O'Driscoll.  On one hand, Kieran wouldn't talk back to him, wouldn't question his every turn.  The man would be too scared to even talk to him, and Kieran wouldn't talk back either.  Now _that_ be nice.  Arthur scratched his chin. 

Arthur stared at the flighty young man for a moment. Kieran sat on a log, scrubbing a saddle with nervous glances in every direction.  Fresh off the tree three weeks ago and still side-eyeing everyone.  Arthur couldn't blame him.  If he was in Kieran's position, he'd be afraid to even close his eyes for a moment.  The man was too nervous to really gage how he would react to being approached by the same man who'd thrown him on the back of his horse and had threatened to break every bone in his body. He remembered how the O'Driscoll tried to reason with him to let him go, that he wouldn't say anything, he'd keep quiet. But Arthur knew better.  O'Driscolls were notorious for betraying people, breaking promises. He knew that first-hand.   Arthur ran a hand down his face.  So why was he even contemplating bringing Kieran with him?

Arthur found himself walking over to the man, and Kieran looked up at the sound of footsteps, tense. He relaxed when he realized who it was. Something in Arthur felt bad for Kieran.  Always on the lookout, not knowing if he was gonna survive to see the next day.  He squashed that feeling down almost immediately.   

"Oh, h-hey Arthur." Kieran stammered, and he casted his eyes back down to the brown saddle he'd been scrubbing. The soap he was using smelled like Kiwis. 

"Pack your saddlebag O'Driscoll.  We're going for a little ride."

Kieran's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. 

"W-what do you mean?"

"Bounty hunting." Arthur grabbed Kieran's arm and hoisted him up. He grunted in surprise.

"Bounty hunting?" Kieran parroted, voice squeaky.  Arthur could only feel skin and bones under his grip.  He wondered if he ate anything recently. "W-where."

"The Grizzlies."

Arthur dragged Kieran over to Pearson's wagon.  The man was weightless, and it barely took anything to tug him along. 

Mr. Pearson didn't looked up from where he was preparing stew, chopping carrots and swiping them into the metal pot beside him.  Arthur let go of Kieran, and gestured to the various cans of food.  Kieran looked confused until Arthur shoved him forwards.

"Pack food.  Pack warm clothes. It'll be cold."

Arthur turned on his heel and stalked towards his caravan.  He sat down on his bed, creaky under the added weight, and scrubbed his face tiredly.

What was he thinking?

\-------------------------------

The cool bursts of breeze picked up into a steady stream of light wind.  Arthur sighed in relief as his overheated body slowly cooled down, and underneath him, Buckaroo mirrored his sigh, walk relaxed and smooth.  Kieran was beside him, riding a calm Branwen.  His saddlebag had been packed to the brim with more food than they probably needed, and Arthur really hoped he left some for the camp.  Nobody questioned where they were going when they rode out of camp.  Arthur was grateful for that.  He didn't want to explain why he was taking the O'Driscoll instead of waiting for the others to get back. 

They rode in silence after they left camp, and Arthur wasn't surprised that Kieran didn't open his mouth after Arthur had told him to pack up. 

Arthur stared at Kieran, and opened his mouth to talk.   

"It's gonna take longer to get to him.  Bout a two day ride.  We're gonna camp one day comin back.  There might be other bounty hunters that might wanna steal our bounty." Kieran's face went white, and a quiet 'oh' escaped his lips. 

"Sound good?"

"Yeah I guess mister."

Arthur bowed his head and kicked Buckaroo into a slow gallop.  Buckaroo grunted, threw his head up high, lurched forwards, hooves pounding against the dust.  They passed by Valentine, and Arthur led the way down through the canyon near the river.  Birds chirped and flew up into the darkening sky.  Deer spooked away from them, tails flashing white.  Rabbits darted between their horses pounding feet, and Arthur was sure they hit one by accident, but when it fluffed up angrily and ran into the bushes, Arthur relaxed in relief. 

He checked over his shoulder to make sure Kieran didn't bail on him and run back to Colm.  He was still there, following close behind.  Branwen was keeping good pace with Buckaroo, hardly breaking a sweat. 

By the time they reached the river, the sky darkened even more, purples and dark blues streaking across the sky.  Arthur slowed his horse down.  Buckaroo was breathing heavily, and he reached down to drink.  Arthur patted his damp neck.  Kieran stopped Branwen beside him, and his horse also reached down to sip at the cool river water. 

"Good job boy!" Arthur praised Buckaroo.  Kieran watched with interest. 

"How long you had that horse, Arthur?" Kieran asked suddenly.  Arthur thought for a moment. 

"Bout a month now.  Stole him from a shitty stable that weren't feeding 'im properly." Arthur scratched Buckaroo's neck, and he snorted in response, water dripping from his mouth when he lifted his head. 

When Buckaroo didn't reach down again, Arthur urged the stallion into the river. Kieran followed. 

"What happened to Maisy?" Kieran's voice started up again after they crossed. 

Maisy. The brown and white paint he'd found in Sadie's barn, rearing up and whinnying something fierce. Arthur mistook the stallion for a mare, named it Maisy, and kept the name even after finding out the horse was a stud. 

Arthur scratched his chin, heart saddening.  Maisy died a month ago, a bullet right to the head in a gunfight with the Lemoyne Raiders. 

"Died bout a month ago." Arthur jabbed his thumb right between his eyes.  "Bullet to the head."

Kieran's face fell. He didn't speak for a few moments, and Arthur assumed he was searching for the right words.   

"Sorry.  It's hard to loose a horse." Kieran mumbled, and he patted Branwens neck like he was thinking about the stallion getting shot and killed.  Arthur sighed, staring straight ahead. 

"Yep. It is.  But that's life unfortunately."

Kieran nodded in agreement, almost sadly, hair falling into his face.  He swiped the stray strands away. 

They rode side by side in silence until the path became too narrow.  Kieran fell behind Buckaroo, staying quiet. The path came winding up a small cliff, and cut through a railway bridge.  It led into a forest after that, pine trees and brush mostly. 

The moon was beginning to rise, and it illuminated the path with silver moonlight.  The stars were vibrant and bright, the milky way just as dazzling.  When they reached the top of the path, Arthur reached behind him to pull out his fire starters from his saddlebag. 

"You unsaddle the horses, I'll get the fire going." Arthur hopped down, feet hitting the ground with a soft thud, and he grabbed Buckaroo's reigns, leading him a little ways off the path into the trees.  The trees were thick, shielding them from people passing by on the trail.  They wouldn't be attacked that night without hearing the assailant in the bushes.

Kieran jumped off Branwen, and grabbed Buckaroo's reigns from him. 

Arthur nodded his thanks, and picked a spot in a small clearing, sheltered by trees and brush.  Picking up sticks, pine needles and the odd rock he found, he stomped down grass to make a fire. Arthur placed his collected rocks into a neat circle, and placed the sticks and pine he'd found down inside. 

"C'mon." Arthur mumbled, lighting a match.  The wood was slightly wet, and the pine looked old, edges tinted brown.  As soon as the match hit the pine, the fire burst to life.  Turns out, old pine needles made the best fire.  Arthur nursed the flames bigger until he was satisfied with leaving it the way it was, and he went to his saddle to collect his tent and sleeping bag. 

He found Kieran unsaddling a fidgety Buckaroo.  Branwen was nearby, unsaddled and eating a mixture of carrots and beats, much to Arthur's amusement. 

 "Stay still." Kieran said, frustrated when Buckaroo moved away from him.  Arthur chuckled, startling Kieran. 

"I got him, go set up your tent if you got one."

Kieran looked relieved and he nodded. 

"Thanks Arthur." Kieran set off towards his saddle. 

Arthur gave Buckaroo a peppermint to keep the horse busy, and loosened the main synch, looping it back around the buckle to keep it from dragging on the ground.  The back synch slipped off, and he took the saddle off Buckaroo's back.  Buckaroo sighed in appreciation, nibbling away at green grass. His hide was stained with sweat from the hot day.  Arthur hoped the cool night air helped him.  

Kieran had set his tent up when Arthur walked back into the safety of the fire, and was sitting with his back against his saddle.  Arthur dropped his own down and leaned against it, body sagging in exhaustion.  Arthur pulled out two slabs of venison and a few mint leaves to season with. 

"Hungry?" Arthur crushed the leaves up and sprinkled it over the meat.  Kieran stiffened, eyes wide and mouth open like he wanted to speak. 

"Y-yeah I am mister."

Arthur put them both on his little cooker, the meat sizzling at the contact and filling the air with a minty scent.  Arthur let them simmer, and rifled around in his bag for the few cans of corn he had stored in there for travelling.  Pre-Cooked it said on the package. 

"Pre-cooked my ass.  Tastes like shit." Arthur grumbled under his breath.  He popped the lids open and placed them down by the fire to let them cook. 

Kieran fidgeted beside him, poking at the fire with a nearby stick.  The meat would take a little bit until he had to flip it, so Arthur stretched and leaned all the way back onto his saddle, the leather creaking with new weight.  Crossing his arms behind his head to use as a pillow, Arthur watched the fire pop and crackle with every poke of Kieran's stick.  A flashy show of sparks would fly into the night air, mixing with the stars before disappearing. 

Owls hooting filled the silence of the night air.  Arthur was kinda glad for them. 

Kieran barely made any noise, didn't talk once unless he was talked too.  Arthur thought he'd be glad for that; he travelled alone most of the time and enjoyed his peace and quiet.  Though, usually when he brought someone along with him, he'd be talking and drinking with that person until they decided to sleep.  Kieran however looked too scared and tense to even open his mouth to speak. 

"You can relax y'know."

Kieran jumped at the sound of Arthur's low voice.  Arthur watched, amused. 

"I-I am relaxed sir." Kieran defended, and had the audacity to look offended.  Arthur thought he was getting braver, actually growing a set and standing up for himself, but that came crashing down when Kieran broke eye contact and stared at the ground, "Sorry." He mumbled. 

Kieran looked like a sad puppy, head down and watching the ground, hair in his face and body hunched. Arthur chuckled.

"You ain't relaxed."

Kieran's eyebrows pinched together. Arthur was expecting him to look up, but he didn't.

"In fairness Arthur, I ain't the most comfortable right now." Kieran spoke quietly, nervously, and Arthur saw him distract himself by prodding the fire again. 

Arthur peered at the skinny man.  He knew why.  He knew why Kieran was so uncomfortable and flighty and nervous.  He was alone, in the woods, with the same man who captured him, threw him on the back of his horse, and threatened to break every bone in his body if he spoke a word.  He was the same man who made Kieran's life miserable for two weeks in the mountains and then another week tied to a tree without food and barely any water.  Kieran almost starved before they let him off the tree, and Arthur could bet money that Kieran thought he was gonna die by his hand the few days they were bounty hunting.  That this was some sort of punishment for doing something wrong. 

Arthur frowned as he flipped the venison over with his knife, meat hissing at the hot metal.  Kieran wasn't that good at hiding his feelings.  Sheathing his knife, Arthur looked to Kieran.

"This ain't some punishment I'm forcing onto you, y'know that right?" Arthur started.  Kieran glanced up to him, only for a moment, "You _can_ relax, if it's even possible for you. Dutch told me to take you so you'd earn your keep 'round the camp."

Arthur saw Kieran visibly relax.

Victory.

Arthur left Kieran with that information, let him process it by himself. 

Arthur straightened to check if the meat was done.  Still pink, so he let it sit on the fire for a few more moments. One can of corn was bubbling, a sign it was done, and the metal was too hot to touch.  He scooted it over to Kieran. 

"Eat up.  Meat's almost ready."

Kieran rolled down his sleeves to they covered his hands and grabbed the can.

"Thanks...Arthur."

"You're welcome Kieran." Arthur smiled and to his surprise, Kieran smiled back, a small smile. 

Arthur was beginning to think bringing Kieran along was a good idea.

He passed Kieran his share of venison, and they ate in silence, Kieran breaking it only to comment on the minty flavouring.  Arthur was pretty sure that was the most he'd seen Kieran eat.  The man was all skin and bones.

Arthur set his now empty can of corn down beside him, and reached into his saddlebag for a bottle of beer.  A sort of a prize for making it this far with Kieran as a companion.  Arthur passed one over to Kieran, who took it hesitantly. 

"Happy hunting."  They clinked their bottle together in a form of cheer, and Arthur thought he saw Kieran smile again.  Of course, the firelight could have been playing tricks on him. 

The night birds started to pick up in their singing, and the crickets joined in.  Arthur laughed when Kieran stiffened up at the sound of a wold howling and reassured him they were about as scared of humans as humans were of wolves.  Kieran called him a liar, and then promptly apologized. 

Buckaroo came meandering over, laying down, and Arthur threw him a celery stick to munch on.  Branwen stood beside the stallion, hoof cocked and ears relaxed.  The reddish speckled paint stallion was one of their carriage horses, a back-up in case one of their main horses died, Arthur remembered. He was a bit of an older horse, in his teen years, and more calmer than any of their other horses.  Arthur remembered having to ride him for a few months when his own horse died in Blackwater. 

"How you liking Branwen?" Arthur asked.  Kieran snapped his head over to face him, and he studied the stallion for a moment. 

"He's a good horse. Probably the best I've ever ridden." Kieran replied. Arthur noticed he was talking a bit more slower and calmer than before.  Either from the beer, or he was actually more comfortable talking with Arthur, he'd never know. 

"How you know so much 'bout horses?"

Kieran poked at the fire with his stick and shrugged.

"Grew up 'round 'em I guess.  I worked at a stable where my mammy and pappy lived." Kieran shoved a log over and it sent a shower of sparks into the air.  He set his stick down.

" _Mammy and pappy_?" Arthur had to keep from laughing, and Kieran shot him the most unintimidating glare.

"I was young." He defended.  Arthur nodded, smiling.

"Sure you were.  Where are your parents now? Test that theory, see if you actually still call them mammy and papp-"

"They're dead Arthur." Kieran cut him off almost angrily. He was back to poking the fire again, this time more aggressively.  Never sitting still, Arthur observed.

"Oh...m'sorry Kieran." Arthur saw Kieran shrug and throw the half burnt stick away into the bushes. 

"S'fine. That's what happens anyway.  People die no matter who they are."

Arthur went back to watching the fire, letting the conversation die.  Talking about dead relatives always made him feel uncomfortable. 

Arthur sipped at his beer, the bottle almost empty in his hands.  A few more sips and he'd be off to bed.  Lake Isabella was still a few good miles away and they'd have to ake up early to get there by a good time.  And to prepare for a fight.  A massive one, it sounded like. 

Arthur leaned his head back, watching the stars twinkle above him.  Tomorrow was gonna be life or death, he already knew.  He just hoped Kieran knew how to use a-

Something glinted in the firelight out of the corner of his eye, and Arthur lifted his head.

"What're you doing?"

Kieran stopped, gun coming down from aiming at a tree.

"Aimin. I'm practising, I think I'm getting better." When he aimed again, he pretended to fire, even making a small 'pew' sound under his breath.  

"That's the shittiest aimin I've ever seen since Micah. How'd you even become an O'Driscoll aimin like that?" Arthur chastised. Kieran frowned as Arthur set his beer down and shuffled closer, "Here lemme help you.  Don't want you gettin shot tomorrow."

He placed a hand under Kieran's elbow and lifted just slightly.  Arthur moved behind Kieran so he could see if he was even aiming straight.  Arthur barely noticed Kieran stiffen. Arthur raised Kieran's arm until it was straight and true, and he held it there to make sure Kieran got the point.

"Like that see? You want your shoulders turned too, otherwise the recoil'll kill your arm." Arthur let go of Kieran's elbow and placed his hands on his shoulders, moving them slowly till they were tilted just slightly. 

Arthur pulled away to admire his work. 

"Actually, stand up here quick.  I wanna see your footing."

At Six Point Cabin when Kieran saved his life, it was a wonder how he didn't hit anything else.  Aim sloppy, and stance even worse. 

Kieran got up, and stood in his position, glancing nervously towards Arthur. 

"Like this?" Those were the first two words that came out of his mouth since Arthur started helping his positioning. Arthur shook his head and kicked Kieran's legs out more. 

"Shoulder-width. Strong stance. I shouldn't be able to push you over." Arthur made his point by shoving Kieran. To his surprise, the skinny man stayed upright, "'m impressed O'Driscoll. You might make Van Der Linde material after all." 

Kieran flashed him a smile for the third time that hour. 

"Thanks Arthur." 

Arthur waved a hand and sat back down heavily on the ground, leaning against his saddle. 

"Don't mention it. Would be bad if you died bringing back a bounty." 

Kieran sat back down too and holstered his gun.  

"I-I'll try to remember what you told me." He stated, and Arthur glanced to him. 

"Be sure you do." 

They fell into another silence. Buckaroo got up, shook himself, and stood beside Branwen, nose in his mane. Arthur chugged the rest of his beer and placed the bottle down. 

Tomorrow was gonna be a long day. 

Sighing, Arthur stretched. 

"I'm off to bed. Would suggest the same to you." 

Kieran nodded. 

"Goodnight Arthur." 

Arthur stood up and opened the flaps to his tent, clambering inside and drawing them closed. He sat down on his sleeping bag and pulled out his journal, flipping to a new clean page before writing: 

_Bounty hunting again. This time decided to bring Kieran, of all people, along with me. Learned a few things about him too..._


	2. A Wild Grizzly Gang Appears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Just wow. I was not expecting so much feedback in the first chapter. You guys are the best :)  
> Another chapter full of shit  
> Please enjoy!

It was cold.  Cold enough that Arthur could see his breath frosty in the chill air.  Groaning, he sat up and stretched his arms over his head, stifling a yawn.  The sun barley shone through the canvas of his tent, signalling it was fairly early in the morning, and the morning birds only just started to chirp to each other.  He couldn't hear Kieran moving around out in the chilly morning, which wasn't surprising. Arthur wiped the bleariness from his eyes, and shrugged on his winter gear tiredly.  Slinging his satchel over his shoulder, Arthur shuffled out of the tent. 

The fiery red sky was beginning to brighten to a dull blue, milky clouds dabbed in grey drifted around. It snowed, not much, a thin layer of frost and powder covering the entirety of the campsite.  The fireplace peeked from the ground, and when Arthur touched the wood to see if it was dry, the dampness seeped into his gloves. 

"Great." Arthur huffed, throwing the wet stuff onto the ground. He set to work collecting dryer sticks from underneath the trees, resorting to getting on his hands and knees to reach for some.  Snow stuck to his clothing, wet and damp, and he swiped it off when he got back to the firepit. 

The air was nippy, his nose already turning numb by the time he placed his dry sticks down. Arthur took out a firestarter, struck a match, and watched the flames grow.  The fire popped and cracked satisfyingly as Arthur prepared a cup of coffee to warm himself up on.  Kieran still hadn't made an appearance, even though Arthur was sure he stomped around like a bear collecting sticks for the fire.  Tapping at the canvas flaps on Kieran's tent, Arthur sipped his cup.

"Wake up O'Driscoll. We got bounty hunting to do." 

There was shuffling, yawning, and a grunt as a reply, so Arthur left to go stand by the fire, feeling the coffee energize him just a bit.  Kieran came out moments later, wearing winter gear, hair a mess.  He still looked half-asleep. 

"You look awful." Arthur commented over the brim of his cup as Kieran reached down for the kettle.  

"Thanks." He grumbled.   

Arthur smiled and finished off the rest of his coffee, dumping the small amount left onto the ground.  He pulled out some feed for the horses and approached them, leaving Kieran to drink his coffee in peace. The horses lifted their heads and nickered at the sight of food in his hands. Apparently, they were already done with pawing for grass under the snow. 

"Here you go boys." He dumped the mixture of carrots and beets down onto the ground, no more than a couple handfuls but enough to keep them energized until they got grass.  The stallions dipped their heads and munched away happily at their breakfast. 

"I coulda done that." Kieran said when Arthur came back, wiping his gloves on the front of his pants.  He shrugged.

"Thought I'd do you a favour."

In all honesty, Arthur didn't know why he did Kieran's chore for him. Maybe it was because he felt bad for the man.  Tied to a tree for a week, almost castrated, parent's dead at a young age, picked on by everyone at the camp. Arthur sure as hell didn't know. 

"I appreciate it." Kieran murmured. He dumped the rest of his coffee into the dwindling fire and placed the cup near the kettle, "I'll go saddle the horses."

He left towards them, the stallions lifting their heads to greet him when he got within arm's reach. 

Arthur turned away to pack up his belongings, which really only consisted of his journal and satchel.  As Arthur bent down to pick up the kettle and pack away his cooker, he saw Kieran sneak both horses an apple, saw Buckaroo nudge for more, and with a nervous glance to Arthur, Buckaroo got a celery stick.  He pretended not to notice; he really didn't care if Buckaroo got extra feed.  It only helped him more in the long-run. 

"We're leaving right away.  Might wanna pack up your stuff." Arthur said when Kieran came back. Kieran nodded and crawled inside his tent to pack up his things. 

Arthur stomped out the rest of the fire, which had only died down to a flicker of flame, and tore down his tent with a single kick to the wooden stick holding up the canvas.  The whole thing collapsed like a house of cards, and packing it up was very easy.  Arthur placed both the tent and sleeping bag on Buckaroo's rump, and waited for Kieran by the stallion. 

When he looked over after a few moments to check on Kieran, he saw the young man struggling to fold his tent properly. Exhaling, Arthur approached him. 

"Can't shoot a gun properly and can't fold a tent properly." Arthur grumbled, and Kieran jumped.  He couldn't tell if it was the cold making Kieran blush, "Move over, I'll show you."

Soon, Kieran knew how to fold a tent, and after throwing it on Branwen, they were off to the nearest path. 

The layer of snow reflected the sun, some spots melting at the heat thrown.  The pine trees swayed gently in the small breeze, and the air smelled damp.  Arthur took a deep breath in; he'd always loved the smell. 

The path snaked upwards and hugged the towering mountain before them. Boulders balanced precariously along the edge, the path looked crumbling and old.  When Buckaroo stepped down, rocks shifted down and rolled down the mountain edge.  Arthur heard Kieran gulp. 

They weren't on the path for long before it started to incline downwards and to the left.  The snow was getting more deep and more common, no longer in patchy places all around the forest.  Pine trees stood side by side at the bottom, a thin layer of snow resting on the thick needles.  Buckaroo snorted and lifted his feet higher to walk through the ankle deep snow. 

The path split up, a tree in the middle, one path going back towards the Heartlands and right one going deeper into the Grizzlies.  They stuck to the right, and that's when the landscape began to change.   

Gradually, the trees turned bare and hugged both sides of the path.  Their long grey spindly trunks were tall, branches like gnarled fingers stretched out.  The tops looked burnt, Arthur observed. 

"That's weird." Kieran's voice said suddenly.  The man had moved up beside him, staring at the ground.  Arthur peered down, and slowed Buckaroo to a stop. 

There were hoofprints.  Several of them, going in the same direction as Isabella Lake.  They looked fresh. 

 _Maybe this morning._ Arthur thought.  He looked behind them, and saw the prints came from the direction of the Heartlands. 

"Think it could be them?" Kieran asked quietly, thinking.  Arthur kicked Buckaroo back into a slow walk, shrugging.

"It sure as hell ain't us.  Barely anyone comes by this way." He rubbed his chin, and Buckaroo snorted as the snow grew deeper, absolutely not happy that he was being ridden through this, "Could be 'em."

"A-and what happens if we run into them on the way?" Kieran sounded timid, fingers fiddling with the reigns.  He watched Arthur with piercing eyes, nervous eyes. 

Arthur found himself thinking he'd protect Kieran if any danger came their way, and he snapped out of it with a jolt. Thankfully, Kieran hadn't seen it. 

 _What the hell_.

Before Arthur could think to deeply into it, Kieran spoke again. 

"How far away from Isabella Lake are we?"  

"A little ways away yet. We'll camp near there before taking Mr. Lake in. I want to scout out the place, see what we're up against." 

"Think there'll be a fight?" 

Arthur glanced to Kieran, eyebrow arched.

Considering this man evaded the law for three years, killed every single bounty hunter that went after him, and hired people to protect him, Arthur guessed there would be a fight.

A massive one.  

"Definitely." 

Kieran's face went white, a mumbled "Oh Boy" escaping his lips.  Before he could stop himself and think, Arthur reached over and patted his shoulder. The man tensed.  

"You'll be fine."

Why did he _do_ that. Why did he _say_ that. He found his hand resting on Kieran's shoulder a little longer than he meant.  He snapped his hand back.

 _What's wrong with me_. Arthur thought bitterly.  Kieran ducked his head, rubbing his shoulder where Arthur touched him.  Clearing his throat, Arthur kicked Buckaroo into a gallop, the horse grunting in surprise.  Buckaroo bounded through the deep snow, Branwen not to far behind him.  The breeze coupled with the gust caused by how fast Buckaroo was going created a sharp wind that smacked Arthur in the face harshly.  The pine trees whizzed by, bighorns bleating in terror as they bounded away.  The trees were no longer thin and spindly, rather they were more thick and full of pine needles.  Crows cawed as they galloped by, and Arthur found himself relaxing in the saddle, despite the awkward exchange with Kieran. He let his one hand rest on his thigh, rocking to the motion of Buckaroo's run. 

They rounded a corner with a boulder blocking the view of the path.  A frozen lake with a small shack on the far side met Arthur's gaze.  Barrow Lagoon, Arthur remembered seeing it on the map he had with him.  It wasn't too far away from Isabella Lake. 

"You! Stop right there!" Someone shouted. 

Arthur jumped, pulling back Buckaroo's head.  The horse squealed, digging his heels in and sending a shower of snow into the air.  Branwen whinnied in alarm, almost colliding with Buckaroo, and Kieran stopped him right beside Arthur.  Both horses danced around, tails high and necks arched.

Five masked people stepped out from behind a nearby set of trees, guns out and pointed at the pair.  Rifles, pistols, shotguns, all the sorts.  Didn't make it much better.  Their faces were obscured from view, their eyes peeking out, and they all wore the same black winter gear.

The closest one, Arthur guessed the leader, had two silver pistols pointed at his face. 

"State yer business stranger.  And get those goddamn hands up where I can see 'em." The man demanded in a gruff voice, gloves creaking as he tightened his grip on the guns.  Arthur did what he was told, and the leader nodded towards him.  A redhaired female came up cautiously, grabbing Buckaroos' reigns.  Buckaroo jolted, half-rearing in the air, and snorting in surprise.  

"He don't like strangers." Arthur warned when Buckaroo laid his ears back at the woman.

"Shut it." The leader snarled.  He repeated the process with Kieran's horse, and a man grabbed the male red roan. Branwen didn't bat an eye, although Kieran did. 

"Careful with him."

The leader, clicked the hammer back and pointed it at Kieran.

"I said shut up."

He turned back to Arthur.

"Now state yer business."

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but Kieran answered for him.

"Just passin through."

Arthur stiffened.

_Oh no..._

"That so? Where you headed?"

Kieran swallowed audibly, hands wavering, and Arthur really wished he hadn't spoken. 

_Stupid O'Dricsoll_

"H-Hunting trip up North."

Leader didn't look convinced. 

"We're hunting...uh..."

"Grizzly Bears." Arthur finished for Kieran, and he nodded vigorously.  

"Yeah! Grizzly Bears! That's the honest truth Mister.  Big man eatin Grizzly Bears the size of houses!" Kieran even spread his arms, indicating the size in dramatic fashion.

Arthur gritted his teeth.  Now he really wished Kieran shut up.  The other people chuckled around them. 

"Well I can tell you right now there ain't no 'Grizzly Bears the size of houses up north'. Now turn around and go away." Leader cocked his other gun, and the rest of his friends followed suite, "And never return.  This here's Grizzly Gang territory."

_Well, we found them._

"Whatever you say friend." Arthur said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders like it was no big deal.  Kieran, however, looked between Arthur and Leader nervously.  Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw him reach for his gun slowly.  His heart stopped. 

_Are you fucking kidding me._

Arthur supressed the urge to shoot Kieran himself.    

All guns turned to Kieran. 

"Ah ah ah! Wouldn't do that if I were you." Leader snarled, snapping his gun towards Kieran. The rest followed automatically, guns cocking in every direction.  Kieran gulped and raised his hand slowly. 

"Now leave." He snapped, and the woman holding Buckaroo let him go.  Buckaroo's lips peeled back, and she dodged out of the way of sharp teeth. 

Satisfaction ate Arthur up as the woman scowled at the stallion. 

"Easy boy." Arthur patted his neck, and turned his neck around to walk back the way they came.  Kieran followed closely behind, head down.

Arthur rounded the rock, just out of sight, and Arthur hopped off Buckaroo.  The smug bastards were cracking up, the laughs echoing off the mountains.  Growling under his breath, Arthur pulled out his shotgun from the saddle. Grabbing ammunition, he loaded his pistols forcefully. 

"W-what are you doing?" Kieran asked, scrambling to take out his own pistol. His fingers shook as he reloaded it, almost dropping bullets. 

"We are going to send a little message to Mr. Joshua Lake." Arthur punctuated by pumping his shotgun, the rounds clicking into place.  Kieran hopped down from Branwen.  HIs feet sunk into the knee deep snow. 

He was so focused on killing those 'Grizzly Gang' members he almost forgot what Kieran did. He shoved Kieran backwards with such force, he stumbled to regain his balance and he grabbed the man's coat in fists.

" _What was that back there_? You _tryna_ get us killed? That was by far the most stupidest thing anyone has tried to do."

Kieran trembled, and his hands were raised like they had been when they were held at gunpoint.  Arthur inclined his head towards Branwen and Buckaroo, letting go of Kieran's front coat. 

"Now you either stay with the horses or you follow my lead.  No stupid shit, ya hear?"

Kieran nodded slowly, body slumping and hands lowering.  Arthur felt a smidge of regret.  Kieran looked hurt, his face dropping, shoulders drooping. 

"I understand sir." His voice sounded small.  Arthur squashed his feeling of regret down almost immediately. 

"Good. I don't need you killin me."

Arthur turned away towards the boulder, and crouched down into the snow, shotgun in hand, ready to fire.  Arthur pressed himself flush against the rock, peeking over the top to see the five Grizzly Gang members unhitching their horses. 

 _Perfect distraction_ , Arthur thought as he slung the shotgun over the rock to aim.  Sighting one of them through the peep sight, Arthur squeezed the trigger, stilling his body.  Sucking in air, he held his breath. 

There was movement beside him; Kieran had slid into the space beside Arthur, holding his silver revolver with a shaky hand. 

"I-I'm ready when you are Arthur." He whispered.  Arthur didn't respond, only looing to him out of the corner of his eye.  He took aim again, resighting to the nearest Grizzly Gang member. 

They weren't even paying attention to the path nor the boulder.  They were all joking around, leading their horses to the path to mount.   The man in Arthur's sights took his horses' reigns and slung them over its neck. 

Time slowed, blood roaring in Arthur's ears.  His heart pounded, unspent adrenaline coursing through his veins.  A familiar copper taste filled his mouth, muscles preparing to spring into action. 

He just hoped Kieran was as ready for a fight as he was.   

"Here we go..." Arthur squeezed the trigger. 

_Bang!_

The recoil shot him back, smoke popping out of the barrel.  The man fell down instantly with a heavy thud, staining the snow with his blood.  His horse reared and took off running with a sharp whinny.  The rest of the Grizzly Gang members rushed to pull their guns out. 

Arthur ducked, grabbing Kieran and pulling him down with him as gunfire peppered the air, blind fires shot everywhere. 

"Who's firin at us boss?!" One screamed, taking a shot into the trees.  He ducked behind a fallen log.  Arthur saw one run towards the road on horseback. 

Five seconds later, he was dead on the ground.

"Two down, three to go!" Arthur shouted just as Kieran fired his revolver at the man hiding behind the log.  Wood chips flew into the air as the man roared angrily.

"It's them! Kill-"

He was dead before he finished his sentence.  Arthur saw Kieran flash him a proud smile. 

"Make that three down!"

Arthur smiled back.  Pulling his shotgun back, he unholstered his twin pistols.  He peeked up, and for the split second he was up, he saw a figure moving out from one tree.  He fired, and the person went down. 

Arthur sunk down quickly as the last man fired his gun at the rock.  Dust flew in the air, and Kieran cowered, his gun close to his chest. Eyes wide, Kieran gulped.

"What do we do?!" He shouted over the gunfire, wincing when a piece of boulder flew off and hit him in the forehead. 

"We wait!"

Sure enough, the gunfire stopped as the Leader reloaded.

"Shit!"

Arthur saw his chance and popped up, firing his gun at the man's cover.  Leader took off towards his horse, mounting gracefully, and kicking the steed up the path.  Arthur ran out to the path, firing at the man's back.  Leader whirled around and shot back, barely missing Arthur.  Bullets whizzed by, and Arthur shot again, one gun dry firing. 

He fired his last gun, hoping at least he had one bullet left.  The man cried out in pain, falling off the back of his horse. That answered Arthur's question. 

When the man didn't get back up, Arthur whirled around to congratulate Kieran on his kill.  The man _actually_ hit something.  That was surprising. 

He was not expecting Kieran to be holding his arm, blood seeping through his fingers. 

"I think I got h-hit Arthur." He whimpered, face scrunching up in pain. 

" _Shit!_ " Arthur hissed.  He took Kieran's arm in his hands, the man wincing.  The blood was coming from just above his elbow, and he gently pried Kieran's fingers off.  The cloth was torn, and when Arthur peeled it up, a large nasty red gash greeted him.  He sighed in relief.

"You weren't hit, just skimmed." Arthur dropped Kieran's arm.  Kieran, however, didn't look convinced. 

"Is it bleeding badly?" His voice wavered. His face paled when he looked down to his 'wound'.

"Naw, just a scratch."

Kieran barked a laugh, so sharp and so sudden, Arthur jumped. 

" _Just a scratch?_ It stings like hell, its bleeding really _really_ badly, and I-I'm feelin lightheaded Arthur." Kieran did look woozy.  Arthur steadied him by grabbing his other arm.

Okay so Kieran wasn't a big fan of blood. 

"Woah now. Take it easy there." Arthur inspected the wound again, and sighed, "I'll wrap it.  Hold on."

Arthur dug in his satchel and grabbed a roll of white bandage.  Kieran didn't make a noise when he applied it to the wound, wounding it tight to stop the blood.  He tied it off in a small knot, and patted Kieran's arm gently.

"I'm gonna see what I can find on their bodies. You just...go get them horses." Arthur set off towards the closest body and pulled him up, taking out a box of ammunition from his coat pocket, and a watch from the other.  The next body wasn't hard to find, a large red dent in the snow with blood splattered on the tree. Arthur found a dollar and a pamphlet for beef stew. 

The body after that had a horse remedy, and snake oil tonic, and the fourth body who held Buckaroo had two dollars and a watch as well.  Arthur trudged through the deep snow over to the leader who'd tried to escape and patted his pockets.

"Alright lets see whatcha got." He grunted.  There was a map in the front pocket and Arthur opened it to see it had the location of Joshua's hideout.  A small graphite circle over a little ways away from Lake Isabella with a square cabin on it.

"Perfect." Arthur mumbled under his breath, slipping the map into his satchel.

Arthur turned on his heel and went back towards Kieran, who was holding both Branwen and Buckaroo.

"Alright, let's get outta here before more show up." Arthur looped the reigns around Buckaroo's neck and mounted,  Kieran following behind him, "Got a little ways to go yet."

Arthur kicked Buckaroo into a slow gallop up the small hill, slowing him down at the top to save the stallions energy.  The sky darkened considerably, clouds beginning to cover the sky in big grey masses.  Arthur watched them, hoping they didn't produce any snowstorms.

"Find anything good?" Kieran called from behind.  He trotted up beside Arthur. His hand was cupping his new bandage, and Arthur felt his lips curving into a smile.

"Found a map with their hideout circled on it." Arthur chuckled, patting his satchel, "That's a start."

"At least we won't be wanderin 'round for hours." Kieran mumbled, and Arthur couldn't help but agree.

Wandering could get them killed to say the least.  They would be in the open and could get shot easily.  They could follow the wrong tracks by accident, could accidently find the wrong cabin. That was the least likely to happen; no sane person lived up in the Grizzlies. 

The path inclined up a small hill dotted with trees, one curling downwards towards Lake Isabella.  Arthur could actually see the tail end of the frozen lake.  He didn't want to go down towards the lake just yet; they could be ambushed and killed.  Plus, Arthur wanted to get a survey of the land, see what they were up against for landscape. 

"I want to see if I can locate Mr. Lake's camp from up there." Arthur pointed to the path inclining up the mountain, "Looks like we gotta bit of a climb."

Kieran gulped and Branwen snorted.

Buckaroo had no troubles climbing up the first stretch of path. There was a bit of a breeze on the top, biting and cold.  Arthur straightened his colour to cover his neck. 

The lake was pristine, some areas completely covered in ice.  It stretched around a mountain side, a bit of the lake blocked from view.  A small stream and waterfall to the north fed the lake with water. The path was hugging the side of the mountain, a sharp incline down on their side towards a sort of ledge that dropped down again into the valley.  Arthur squinted, hand covering the sun from his eyes.  He couldn't see any sort of camp. They would need to go down there and search through the trees on the other side of the lake. 

Arthur stifled a groan.

_Great_

Arthur suddenly lurched forwards and he grunted, gripping the saddlehorn for balance.  The leather creaked under his grip, and Buckaroo's neck reeled downwards, knees buckling. For a brief fearful second, Arthur thought the stallion was going to fall.  With a jumped, Buckaroo straightened, whinnying in alarm.  Arthur hugged his neck as he reared up. 

"Woah! Easy now!" Arthur said as Buckaroo touched the ground with dancing feet, tail raised and nose snorting.  Arthur patted the tense studs neck, body waiting for the horse to do something stupid again. 

Arthur whirled around to see an uncovered sheen of ice, a small white mark from Buckaroo's hoof. 

A breath of relief sounded from behind him. It was Kieran.

"Avoid that spot." He warned, and Kieran chuckled. 

"We could lead them off the mountain."

_Not a bad idea O'Driscoll. There might be a brain in that head of yours after all_

"We'll give it a try. "Arthur didn't mirror his thoughts.  He gestured to the top of the path, "I want to get to the top and look around."

Arthur slid off Buckaroo and grabbed the jumpy stallions reigns.  The snow was deep, sucking at his shins, and it made the climb even more treacherous.  The ice was bad enough, but not being able to see it and avoid it was worse. 

"Be careful." Arthur warned before he could even think.  Kieran nodded, and followed closely behind him and Buckaroo.

Face burning, Arthur continued.

 _Kieran can look after himself_ , Arthur thought as they trudged along, _So why did I say that?_

Arthur slipped a few times on the way up, steadying himself against Buckaroo's strong form.  Kieran wasn't fairing out much better, more concerned about Branwen than his own safety. After hearing Kieran yelp in panic from slipping for the fifth time, Arthur turned his head.

"I said be careful O'Dris-"

The snow beneath Arthur's boots gave way.  He fell down hard, the snow carrying him towards the edge of the mountain. Ultimately off the mountain too.  He let go of Buckaroo's reigns; he didn't want his horse dying over something so stupid.  Snow sprayed up as he dug his heels in, hoping to slow himself down to a stop.  It didn't work, and only worsened his situation. 

Panic welled up inside him as the edge came closer, and his brain couldn't comprehend what was happening.  He was about to die.  Not in a blaze of fire and glory like he originally thought, oh no.  He was going to die because of Mother Nature's poor craftsmanship. 

Arthur cried out just as his boots went over, and he squeezed his eyes shut before he went airborne.  Hopefully he landed on his head. 

A hand slapped onto his wrist.  Arthur stopped abruptly, legs dangling.  He didn't bother to fight back as the hand pulled him away from the edge and back onto the ledge.  Heart pounding, Arthur wiped the snow away from his eyes, and laughed in relief.   

"Well Kieran, that's the second time you've saved my life."

Kieran laughed breathlessly, and it sounded like windchimes in the breeze.  Melodious almost.  Arthur had never heard him laugh before.  It was beautiful, soothing. 

"It was a pretty close call mister. You're okay though, right?"

Arthur shifted up into a sitting position, immediately noticing Kieran was still holding his arm.  Kieran realized and let go like it was made of fire.  Arthur found himself not caring, despite the situation.

"I'm fine." He reassured.

Kieran got up and extended a hand towards Arthur, who took it gratefully.  Arthur was pulled to his feet. After a pat to Kieran's shoulder, they climbed up the drop, slipping and sliding along the shifty snow.  Arthur saved Kieran when he faceplanted and started sliding down. 

They got to the top with little injury, although Arthur's pants were wet from melted snow.  He shook his jacket free of snow and grabbed Buckaroo's reigns. 

"I'll have a quick look around, and then we can go set up camp."

"Alright Arthur." Kieran waited beside Branwen, who was chewing his bit in boredom, obviously not caring that Arthur almost took a slip down to hell.

Arthur pulled out his binoculars from his satchel and pressed them against his eyes.

The lake looked about the same without the binoculars, granted he could see the odd bighorn trotting around and the few wolves prowling about.

"Woah, Arthur look over there. See that smoke?"

Arthur looked to where Kieran was pointing, and saw a thin line of smoke flittering into the air. The smoke was a little ways away from the Lake, just like the map said, and in a valley filled with trees.  He couldn't see any cabin through the thick forest. 

Arthur put his binoculars away with a chuckle. 

"Good eye Kieran."

It was the cold making his face blush, Arthur concluded.  Definitely the cold.  It must've been fooling around with his face too. 

The sun was setting over the mountain, a dazzling display of dark colours painting the sky.  

"We'll set up camp and get 'em tomorrow morning.  We'll put up over..." Arthur looked around.  He wanted to be away from Joshua in case he knew they were there. There was a thicket of trees to the east of Isabella, enough bush to cover them from prying eyes and weather.  Arthur pointed to the spot, "Over there."

"That's a good spot Arthur."

They grabbed their reigns and led them the rest of the way.  The ice patches stopped coming up for awhile, and the path wound downwards.  Arthur led Buckaroo until they reached the bottom.  No incidents involving slipping down mountains occurred, thank god.

Arthur mounted the stallion and patted his neck.

"You okay boy?"

That slip could've messed up his leg by accident.  Arthur didn't want that at all. 

Buckaroo tossed his head.  Arthur smiled, checked to make sure Kieran was okay. Kieran gave him a sheepish thumbs up as he mounted Branwen, and when he was solid in his seat,  Arthur kicked Buckaroo into a fast gallop.  The path was visible again, lit up by deer prints and wolf pawprints.  Arthur followed the prints.  They hugged the stream Arthur had seen earlier, and thankfully, the prints led into the forest. 

A ring of trees with thick bush greeted them. Arthur dismounted Buckaroo and led him through. It was near impossible to go through on horseback. They'd get hit with a low hanging branch.

Arthur smacked away pine needles, protecting his eyes from getting poked out. When he opened them small clearing greeted him, and Arthur stopped.  Kieran halted beside him, rubbing his hands to warm them. 

It was getting a little chilly. 

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but Kieran cut him off.

"I know, I know." Kieran took Buckaroo's reigns from Arthur, smile on his face, "I got the horses."

Arthur let Kieran grab the horse from him, and unlatched his saddlebag with a smirk.

"Okay, I  _was_ gonna say I can do this, but since you volunteered..." Arthur patted a shocked Kieran's shoulder, and he set to work stomping down the snow for a dry fire.  Kieran sputtered as Arthur stomped around.

"In that case mister, I got the fire."

"Considering you don't know how to pack up a simple tent, lord knows how well the fire'll be." Arthur saw Kieran's eyes twinkle like stars and for a moment, he was lost. 

"Uh...you okay Arthur? You look a little...spaced out."

Arthur shook himself and tore his gaze away from the skinny man, using his hand to cover his raging blush.  Kieran tilted his head in confusion. 

"Fine just...lost in thought."

Arthur Morgan does not space out. Thank god Hosea or Dutch didn't come along.  They'd see right through his lies.  Kieran didn't look convinced as he lead the horses away a few feet from camp to undo their saddles.  Arthur sighed.

 _What is wrong with me. Pining over a MAN, an O'Driscoll._ Arthur ran a hand down his face. Great. This was just great. Gathering the sticks and pine needed to make a fire distracted him until he actually started the flame.  He nursed it until the flames were big enough to illuminate the dark area.  Arthur pushed himself up to grab his tent and sleeping bag from his saddle. 

Kieran, surprisingly, had gotten Buckaroo to stay still long enough to unsaddle him, and he passed Arthur's saddle to him.

"Here you are." Kieran said.  Arthur mumbled his thanks, tried to ignore the way his face heated up when their hands touched, and set it down by the fire.  He set up his tent easily; it distracted him from what was going on.  Hopefully, the canvas was thick enough to keep him warm that night.  He didn't need to be waking up cold and sore.

Arthur crawled out of his freshly set up tent and sat down by the fire, sitting back against his saddle with a beer in hand.  He needed it badly. He needed to drown his newfound feelings forever.  He couldn't afford to be an outlaw and marked as one of  _them_ , and worry about having his heart broken again. Just another thing to be added to his wanted poster. 

Arthur couldn't handle it a third time.  Eliza was bad enough, Mary was worse, but Kieran? He might not handle that.

Snow began drifting down from the black sky, lightly dusting everything white. It was peaceful. 

"So Arthur..." Kieran plopped down his saddle beside Arthur, closer than last night, he observed.  He sat down beside Arthur, "Good shooting, huh?"

"I guess." Kieran beamed.

"You hungry?" Arthur pulled out beef cuts he'd bought the other day and slapped them on his cooker.  Kieran brought out two cans of beans, and set them down near the flame to be cooked. 

"Y'know, yer the only one feedin me properly." Kieran remarked after Arthur flipped the beef.

"That so?"

Kieran chuckled nervously and nodded.

"I usually eat oatcakes."

"Jesus, no wonder yer so skinny! Ain't those meant for the horses?" Arthur couldn't keep the humor out of his voice. Kieran chewed his lip and looked away, clearly embarrassed.  Arthur continued, "Start going into camp and gettin actual food. Nobody'll say nothin."

Kieran shrugged and stared at the fire. Arthur was beginning to think that the night was gonna be like their other campout; silence filling the air with  meagre small talk and awkward conversations.

The beef sizzled and popped, and Arthur winced as he realized the edges were burnt.  They were definately done.

Arthur stabbed his cut with his knife and bit into it, stomach growling gratefully at the food. Kieran was silent as he nibbled away at his portion, giving Arthur time to think about the days events. Not about the gunfight, not about how he almost died, but about Kieran. 

 _Why am I attracted to him?_  Arthur thought angrily. The grip on his knife tightened. 

Sure he was good looking, nice, and tender with animals, but he was also a man. And an O'Driscoll. 

Men being with other men was very much frowned upon, but a man being with an enemy gang member would surely turn heads. The gang wasn't necessarily religious by any means, it was just society's views on those sorts of people. Arthur didn't want to test when they were so vulnerable and worried. That might make them angry. 

And after Eliza and Isaac and Mary...Arthur wasn't sure his heart could handle another break. Another kick to the face. Another slap of reality. 

Arthur glanced to Kieran, who had moved onto his beans, scraping the can with a small spoon he'd probably taken from camp. 

Did he even feel the same way? 

Arthur couldn't approach this like he would with a woman. A woman would laugh it off if she didn't like him. A man, however, would turn tail and run, tell everyone, and that's when the real trouble started. They'd think he was sick in the head, needed help, was the 'devil' or some crazy batshit thing like that. 

They killed people like that. Many a time where Arthur had witnessed it firsthand. Just the memory of innocent men and women hanging made his stomach turn. 

Arthur casted aside his full can of beans, suddenly not very hungry. Was what he was even feeling real? Ever since Mary, he guarded himself, told himself he could never love again, that no one would ever be with him, etc. 

His feelings could be fake. They could disappear. If he tried hard enough, they could go away and he wouldn't have to worry about it. 

"Thanks for the food Arthur." Kieran's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife against cloth. Arthur jumped, clearing his throat when Kieran gave him a concerned look. 

"You're welcome O'Driscoll." 

"I ain't an O'Driscoll." He muttered, almost angrily. 

Before Arthur could retort and say something snappy, Branwen came meandering over, big brown eyes droopy. He nosed Kieran until he got a peppermint treat, chewing happily as he walked back over to Buckaroo.

Arthur scoffed. 

"No wonder he's spoilt." 

Kieran sent him a dazzling smile that sent Arthur reeling, chest warm and fuzzy despise the snow lightly falling in him and making his clothes damp. 

Arthur looked away, pretending to cough. 

He really _really_  hoped his feelings were fake. 

The sound of cloth ripping had Arthur glancing back over to Kieran. He was undoing his stained bandage. To inspect the wound, Arthur guessed. 

The gash had stopped bleeding completely, only red and puffy, agitated at being uncovered. Arthur thought Kieran was gonna faint, complain that he was bleeding again when he wasn't. He was not expecting Kieran to beam proudly at Arthur. 

"I'm gonna get my first scar from a gunfight." 

Once healed, the scar wouldn't be any bigger than Arthur's pinky finger. 

Arthur decided to play along rather than destroy his pride. He'd feel bad. 

"Yeah. Yer gonna have to show Sean when you get back." Arthur drank from his beer bottle, and Kieran smiled again, sending Arthur's face ablaze. 

Now he blamed it on sitting too close to the fire. 

"Oh I will mister." 


	3. You Call That Torture?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')
> 
> Kieran's P.O.V peeps
> 
> Unedited, so all mistakes were mine and completely unseen.

What was wrong with him?

That single question ate away at his brain, completely forcing out any other thought he was having.  Kieran scrubbed his face tiredly, rolling to his side and hoping to get comfortable enough to fall asleep.  Nope. 

His mind wouldn't let him, replaying what happened the previous night and that night like a movie.  The stares, the friendly conversation, the _blushing_. Kieran couldn't tell if it was from anger or...something else.  As far as Kieran could tell, the only thing he could have possibly done to anger Arthur was when he took his gun out during the stick-up.  Looking back, that was a fucking stupid mistake. Other than that, nothing.   

Hell, he didn't know if Arthur saw or even knew what was happening with him. He thought he was pretty obvious, every time he'd blush he'd either stay staring or look away completely. 

The inner turmoil, the fight inside his mind was exhausting.  That man made his knees turn weak with a single stare, sent butterflies raging in his stomach whenever Arthur talked to him.  Kieran knew what he was feeling.  It was crystal clear. 

He had a crush on one of the most dangerous outlaws in the country. 

Why? The question why kept repeating itself in his head. 

Why did his mind subconsciously choose to swoon over him? A man, for Christ's sake.

Kieran pinched the bridge of his nose, something he picked up from Hosea, of all people.  He knew what happened to people like that. It wasn't pretty.  It was pretty common knowledge, and he didn't think the gang was in any way, shape, or form religious. That still wouldn't mean they'd kill him for being like that. 

Yeesh, the thought of dying for something so little made his skin crawl.  What a waste, he'd always think when he saw a body swinging because of their 'sins'.

How would he even approach the topic? He couldn't necessarily waltz up to Arthur, tip his hat and proclaim "Well I think I love you!"

That would mean instant death, either by Arthur's hand entirely or the gang.

Speaking of Arthur...

God that man snored like a fucking bear.  If he managed to calm down his mind, there was no way he'd fall asleep with Arthur snoring like that. 

Huffing, he flipped onto his back and tried to drown out Arthur's snoring with his hands. It wouldn't be a surprise if Joshua found them _just_ from following the noise. 

That sure would be something.

\----------------------

Kieran didn't know when he fell asleep.  He awoke one his side, hand underneath his cheek in a sort of pillow.  Owls hooting, horses shuffling around in the snow, and the usual nightly sounds filled the winter air.  He was surprisingly comfortable despite it being super cold out, cold enough he could see his breath in frosty clouds. He hadn't felt this safe and comfortable in a _long_ time. 

The gloved hand that came crashing down on his mouth proved otherwise.  Kieran jerked, letting out a muffled yelp, and thrashed, fists flailing to try and hit his assailant.  He hit a hat clean off someone's head.  That's when his attacker grabbed his arms with their free hand and pinned him.

"It's me! Be quiet!" The person hissed, the voice low and gravely.  A true gruff outlaw voice.  Kieran relaxed, a sigh blowing out his nose. It was Arthur crouching beside him like a wild animal. 

Thank _god._

Back hunched, eyes glinting in the low light, Arthur actually did look like some sort of wild animal stalking its prey. Creepy.

Confusion quickly replaced his relief; what was he doing in his tent?

In the low firelight that lit up the tent in a dark orange glow, Arthur held a finger up to his lips, making a shushing noise.  Brows furrowing, Kieran nodded and Arthur's hand came off slowly like he was afraid Kieran would start screaming.

"There is someone outside." He mouthed.  Kieran's heart dropped, and the look on his face must've proved his feeling of dread as Arthur drew his knife out, the metal glinting in the low light.

"Who-"

A snap of a twig cut him off, too heavy to be a bunny but could be a horse.  Arthur held the tip of the knife to his lips, indicating to be quiet. 

Arthur obviously thought it was a person. 

Kieran strained his ears. Past the fire popping and cracking, past the horses snorting and the owls hooting, there was a crunch of _several_ footsteps against snow. 

Oh god, they were in deep shit. 

Arthur picked up his fallen hat and grasped at Kieran's shoulder. He gestured to the gun holstered at Kieran's side. 

"This might get ugly." He whispered, and Kieran grabbed the pistol quickly, pulling back the hammer and loading it with a click. 

"Who's there?" Kieran breathed and Arthur crawled over to the entrance of the tent, pulling back one of the folds to peek through.  It only took a second for him to come back to Kieran's side.

"Grizzly Gang folk." He uttered, unholstering his own double pistols.  He checked to see if they were loaded, "When they come round here, unload everything you got on 'em and make a break for the trees.  Find cover. I'll be right behind you."

All Kieran could do was nod his head, heart in his throat.  In fact, all he could hear was blood roaring in his ears, his hands shaking as he pointed the gun towards the tent flaps. 

Arthur steadied him with a comforting squeeze to the shoulder.  

There was shuffling outside, and the telltale whoosh of flaps opening signalled that whoever was outside had opened Arthur's tent. Kieran didn't dare breath, fearing that they might hear him.  Grumbling, more moving around, some cloth against cloth, and the sound of a shotgun being loaded.

"Fire's still hot." A nudge of a boot against a log, "They're 'round 'ere somewhere."

Silence.

"Check that tent over there. I'll go searchin 'round the trees." The same voice spoke hushed, almost irritably. A grunt of affirmation, and the footsteps came nearer to Kieran's tent.  The crunching stopped just outside, a dark silhouette standing blocking light from entering the tent.  Arthur nudged him, probably a signal to say 'get ready'. Kieran wasn't ready.

He wasn't ready for the moment when the man ripped open the flaps.  He wasn't ready, he froze when Arthur unloaded his rounds into the man's chest.  He wasn't ready when Arthur screamed at him to run.  He was stuck in place. 

Their horses whinnied in alarm, Branwen taking off through the bush with tail held high, Buckaroo not far behind him.  There was a shout of surprise, and that's when the gunfire started up.  Bullets rained down on them, zipping through the tent, ripping holes and missing his head only by a hair length. 

Kieran only started to move when Arthur grabbed his coat front and shoved him out of the tent, past the bleeding body with at least 20 rounds in the chest. 

"GO!"

Kieran jolted out of his stupor.  There was a shout.

"Get 'im!"

Kieran stumbled towards the trees, towards cover, feet sinking into the deep snow. 

If you asked Kieran if he was prepared to run through a dark forest with men sprinting close behind him and firing every single bullet they had, he'd laughed and said that was crazy.  He didn't like doing crazy things.

Yet here he was, hauling ass and jumping over tripping hazards and hoping to god that he didn't trip.  

The forest was an eerie dark, and their fire only lit up so much of the area. True to his word, Arthur was running behind him, shooting over his shoulder towards their camp.  Kieran's legs burned from exertion as he practically flew through the snow.  He didn't know where he was going.  He didn't know where to hide. 

A hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him along like a ragdoll towards a random direction into a pile of bush.  The twigs pulled at his clothing as he went through, their branches like tiny fingers snagging on him.  He was hauled down, landing in the deep snow, Arthur at his side. Kieran stilled. 

A sound of confusion.  The popping of gunfire ceased abruptly and for a moment, all was silent. 

Kieran really hoped they gave up and went back to wherever they came from.

"Search everywhere! Boss wants 'em either dead or alive!"

Kieran's heart stuttered and dropped to his stomach. 

_Shit._

There were more. There were more and they were coming right for them. Various footsteps sounded from all around the forest, branches snapping and bushes rustling as they searched.   

"There's more Arthur." Kieran breathed, voice wobbly and nervous.  Arthur held his finger to his chapped lips. 

"I know.  Stay quiet."

It was hard for one to stay quiet, laying stomach down in the snow with deadly gang members searching the trees nearby.  Torchlights lit up the dark forest, casting dark shadows over everything.  Kieran wanted to move; his instincts screamed at him to run away as far as he could to safety.  Unspent adrenaline gave a copper taste to his mouth, muscles ready to take action. 

Branches poked uncomfortably at his side, leaves brushing against his face.  He could barely see through the tightly woven branches, and he just hoped the amount of visibility was the same on the other side.

Someone walked by suddenly, lantern squeaking.  Arthur's hand tightened on his shoulder, and Kieran tensed, prepared to use his revolver.  The figure didn't notice the thick bushes, thank god, or they didn't care to search through it.  Either way, Kieran was thankful. 

The figure walked away, grumbling under their breath.

"Too cold for this shit. Coulda waited till tomorrow, not like we didn't know where they..." The figure's voice faded as he went deeper into the forest.

Kieran's body sagged in relief. 

Too close. Way too close. 

That's when he realized Arthur's hand was still on his shoulder. He froze. He should move, take it off, do _something_. Pretend he was disgusted, pretend he wasn't like that, mislead him.  But he didn't. 

He held onto the warm touch like an anchor. It helped him stay still when another person waltzed by their hiding place, smoking a cigarette and not really paying attention to the surrounds. 

When the figure walked away towards their camp, Arthur squeezed his shoulder again and started getting up slowly, peeking over before diving back down again towards Kieran.

"We need to move." Was all he said. Kieran was still to scared to speak, let alone open his mouth, so he followed Arthur step by step out of the bush, careful to not make any noise.  

He followed exactly where Arthur stepped, avoiding sticks and leaves that could rustle. It was stressful; he was expecting someone to pop out from the darkness, guns blazing and screaming at them to get their hands up.

Arthur kept a sharp lookout, guns ready to fire at anything that moved in their direction. Kieran totally forgot about his, the metal cold and heavy in his hands, and he trained it on his surroundings with a gulp.

God the forest was creepy at night.  The silver moonlight did practically nothing to light it up. 

When they got to the edge of the forest, they seemed homefree. A snowy plain cupped by mountains greeted them, a few mountain goats springing away. Kieran let out a deep sigh of relief, and Arthur mirrored him. 

"How'd they find us?" He asked in a hushed whisper. 

"Dunno." Just as that word left his mouth a twig snapped from behind them. Arthur whirled around, guns drawn. He started backing up slowly and Kieran followed, eyes trained on the dark bush, gun pointed.

"But we ain't outta trouble yet."

Kieran snorted, surprising both of them.

"That's for damn su-" 

He barely heard the footsteps fast approaching from behind. It was too late when he registered that someone was there.  Before he could turn around and shoot his gun, something hard cracked against his skull. The blow rang off his skull, and his vision doubled for a moment. He went down immediately, dropping heavily in the snow on his side. 

"Get offa me!" Arthur shouted angrily, and the sound of struggling reached Kieran's ringing ears. Through wobbly vision, he could see Arthur being restrained by two men, and forced onto his knees. Kieran shook his head, trying to clear the fogginess from his eyes. There was a crunch. Arthur continued to fight, even after being punched in the mouth, and Kieran tried to push himself up to help the man. Arms weak, he almost got his bearings, but then a hand clenched around the back of his jacket.  It pulled his body up, and immediately switched into a headlock. Kieran didn't try to fight. His body was weak, his head still ringing like a bell, and his neck hurt something fierce. His limbs refused to cooperate. 

"Now now now big guy!" The man holding him growled and squeezed his arms. Kieran's vision started going black, "Calm down or somethin real bad happens to your friend here." 

Arthur stopped thrashing around and went still, glaring daggers at the man. The hold loosened and Kieran could breath again. Gasping like a fish out of water, he tried to pull out of the hold, but to no avail. This man was stronger and much _much_ bigger. 

"Which one should we take? Boss have a preference?" One of the men holding Arthur's arms asked. Kieran went to calling the man head-locking him Muscles. 

Muscles shrugged and scoffed. 

"I sure as hell don't know!" 

Kieran thrashed around, pulling at the beefy arm around his neck. Still nothing. Damn. 

"Both of em are feisty. Be hard to transport em." 

Muscles thought for a moment.  Actually more than a moment, Kieran realized.  Arthur was still grunting and trying to break out of the arms holding him. 

"We'll bring the skinny one. Got less fight in 'im." Muscles said, "Leave that other one to the wolves. Boss said he wanted to have some fun 'fer we moved camp. Send a message to anymore bounty hunters in the area. Plus, who knows? He might tell us somethin useful." 

Kieran gulped, and he heard Arthur audibly growl. 

"Leave him alone!" 

Muscles laughed and pushed Kieran to the snowy ground. Before Kieran could even get up or whirl around and punch him, Muscles pinned him with a heavy boot to the back.

A lasso unfurling made Kieran's heart stop.

"Looks like we got ourselves a pair!" Muscles grabbed Kieran's thin wrists and wrenched them back, wrapping the rope tightly around them.

"Get offa me!" Kieran screamed angrily.  He punched out, connecting with Muscles face.  It was satisfying, hearing Muscles yelp in pain, but it wasn't worth it when the fist came crashing down against the back of his head.  He cried out, vision spinning, and he suddenly felt nauseous. 

Muscles huffed angrily, and tied Kieran's hands tighter, "Boss always did like makin one squeal for the other! Maybe I'll help 'im this time with this little rat."

More struggling sounded from Arthur.   

"You sick bastards!" A spat, a sound of disgust, and a crunch of fist against bone all sounded within a span of five seconds. Kieran glanced up to see Arthur, dazed and nose bleeding.  

"Shut it!"

Arthur spat blood into the snow, the red splattering against white. 

Kieran's boots were tied together, hogtied, and he started having flashbacks to when Arthur captured him.  He was much gentler than Muscles, that's for sure. 

Pain blossomed from his ribs when Muscles hauled him over his shoulder.  Coughing, Kieran kicked out and thrashed around, hoping to make it harder for Muscles. Another strike to the head had him hanging limp from his shoulder.  Muscles barely noticed Kieran's poor attempt at escape.  Arthur, however, did.

"Get yer hands offa him!"

Muscles didn't respond, and hauled Kieran's body to a nearby heavy draft horse.  Kieran could feel blood dripping off the ends of his hair, head pounding with fresh pain. 

"Knock 'im out! Leave 'im to the wolves." Muscles laughed, throwing Kieran onto the back of the horse.  Kieran coughed weakly, vision swimming.  He was gonna pass out wasn't he? 

His body didn't give him such luxury. Kieran watched, horrified, as one of the men holding Arthur smacked the butt end of a rifle right into the back of his neck, a sharp crack sound filling the air. Arthur crumpled immediately, face down into the snow. 

"Arthur get up!" Kieran cried out, fighting against his restraints. He needed to help him. Arthur was in need of rescuing. 

They were both in need of rescuing.

Arthur didn't move.  He was out.  Kieran snarled as ferociously as he could and squirmed around. His fingers pulled at the rope, trying to break it.  Nothing happened.   

"Lemme go! I ain't gonna tell you nothin!"

"I think you're gonna tell us all we need to know once boss gets ahoulda ya!" Muscles laughed, and it sounded like nails on a chalkboard.  Muscles mounted his horse and the other two men did the same.  He kicked it into a fast gallop as soon as he was seated, and Kieran lurched with the horse, groaning in pain.

Six more people poured out of the forest like coyotes, all on horseback and following their trail through the snow. Kieran let his head fall, hoping he didn't get whiplash from the rocky gait of the draft horse.

Oh boy this was _exactly_ like the time Arthur captured him.  The same rocking motion, the same feeling of hipbones digging into his ribs, the same feeling of wanting to puke. The wind whipped against his face with sharp bursts, effectively turning his burning nose numb and making his eyes water.  His head still hurt, like someone was stabbing a blunt weapon right into the back of his neck.  He was pretty sure he was still bleeding, although it was probably frozen to his skin.  Kieran closed his eyes and wished this was all a bad dream, that he was safe and sound in his tent with Arthur snoring like a train engine in the tent beside him. 

Kieran hoped Arthur was okay even though he was probably still passed out in the snow.  He really hoped that Arthur would come back for him, save him, be his knight in shining armour and work his miracles like he usually did.  How that man survived every single gunfight he'd ever been in was still a mystery.

Kieran's first gunfight and he almost got shot.  He forgot about his arm, the aching dull and barely noticeable compared to his throbbing head. 

A small fleeting thought surfaced, whispering and hissing in his ear _He'll abandon you, you mean nothing to him, you're not worth the trouble..._

He tried not to think about it too much. 

Kieran must've passed out as when he reopened his eyes, he was somewhere completely different.  Still on the back of the walking horse, snorting and whinnies filling the air.  The gang members didn't speak to each other. That was odd. 

A soft orange glow appeared from ahead of them, and Kieran squinted his eyes.  A large wooden cabin, flanked by trees, lay with icicles the size of his arm hanging off the roof.  There was a hitching post just outside of it, and Muscles jumped off his blue roan.  Kieran wiggled around, almost falling off the ass-end of the draft, but Muscles had him before he could 'escape'.

"Oh no you don't." He growled, and Kieran was hauled over his shoulder again, the movement making his head pound with a new headache. 

God this sucked. This really sucked.  Why didn't he refuse Arthur's offer to go bounty hunting? Maybe it was the thrill of getting out of camp that made him reluctantly agree? The feeling of being an actual member to the gang and not a burden? He would never know.

The other members jumped off their horses while Muscles climbed the wooden steps to the double doors.  Kieran felt a wave of heat wash over him when he opened the door, the hinges squeaking. It would've felt nice and inviting; the smell of food, the fire cracking and popping in the fireplace. Too bad he was scared for his fucking life.

_I'm gonna die, aren't I? Oh god oh god oh god..._

This was it.  He was going to die in some horrible, disgusting way.  The way Muscles talked about his boss, Joshua Lake, he must've been really good at torturing.  Too bad he was about to find out just how good he was.

"Boss'll have fun with ya." Muscles chuckled, and he approached a handrailing.  Kieran realized there were stairs on the other side, leading to a dungy looking basement.

"Trust me mister. I-I don't know nothin!" Kieran said nervously as Muscles descended.  A small lantern light hung from the roof, just above the basement door.  A sickening feeling clenched his stomach in iron claws, and his heart dropped.  There was bloody handprints on the door. 

"We'll see 'bout that."

The smell of rotting flesh and entrails assaulted Kieran's nose when Muscles opened the door, and he gagged violently.  The room was lit up by a small fire, smokeless surprisingly, and there were blacksmith tools strewn about. Hooks, hammers, scythes, nails, tongs, all the sorts. A shot of fear ran through his body when he saw speckles of dried blood dotting them, even more blood on the floor.  Adrenaline coursed through him.  Kieran thrashed around with a yell, kicking Muscles in the stomach.  He let out a grunt, and Kieran was dropped to the floor on his side, the shock sending his head reeling.  He gasped in pain.

Growling, Muscles advanced on him, hands forming into fists and one reeled back over his head, prepared to hit.  Kieran winced, body curling in on himself.  This was gonna hurt.  

"Why you 'lil-"  

Before Muscles could hit, before Kieran could fully prepare himself, a new voice spoke from the doorway.

"Enough Frederik."

 _Frederik_. This monster of a man was named _Frederik_?? Kieran would've laughed if not given the circumstances.  He was too frozen in fear to do really anything but watch as the newcomer stepped into the room with an air of authority.

Muscles- _Frederik_ -bowed his head and moved aside, suddenly looking like a disobedient boy instead of a huge muscle man. It was funny really.

The light from the fire casted upon the figure and Kieran got a good look at him. 

A man with a bushy black beard, tiny eyes and bald head hidden under a brown cowboy hat was standing there, hands in a long black duster coat.

"Sorry Mr. Lake.  Was just teachin him a lesson is all." Frederik apologized and bowed his head again.  Kieran stiffened. 

This was Joshua Lake.  The man they'd been searching for.  The man they planned to kill. He was standing right in front of him, eyes raking over Kieran's form.  Kieran should've glared, showed he wasn't afraid of Joshua.  So, that's what he did. 

Chin jutted out, eyebrows pinched together, and eyes hard, Kieran thought he looked a little bit intimidating.  Joshua, however, laughed.

"Boy we all know you're scared as a chicken in a fox pen right now. Drop the tough act."

Kieran faltered. 

Joshua came over to him and knelt down, gloved hand coming out of his pockets to grab Kieran's chin. 

"This is the bounty hunter that's been searchin for me?" Joshua sounded amused.  Kieran wrenched his face away, heart pounding.

"I expected more."

"There was another one, but we knocked 'im out.  Wolves'll get to him before he wakes up, boss." Frederik explained, and Joshua straightened up, much to Kieran's luck. For the first time in his life, Kieran prayed that didn't happen.  Arthur was still alive, still out there, and he'd come back for him. Arthur wouldn't abandon him. 

Would he?  

"Good. At least we won't be hearin from him again. Won't have any troubles." Joshua said, and stared down at Kieran.  The way he looked at him made his skin crawl.  Kieran shifted and that's when he let his gaze drop to the stone floor, "Now what to do with you..."

Kieran's heart jumped in his throat when Joshua casted a glance over to the tools over in the corner by the fireplace.  He strolled over, looking relaxed.  Professional almost, Kieran realized. 

He was fucking screwed. 

Joshua stopped by the tongs and picked them up, examining them like he was looking for any flaws.  Kieran knew he was thinking if it was a good torture tool. 

"Grab him."

Kieran barely understood what he said before he was roughly grabbed by Frederik, and forced onto his knees.  The cold of the stone seeped into his pants. 

Joshua went to the fire and plunged the tongs into the flame, moving to around and poking the fire.

"Under stress, the human body can do wonderous things.  Pain tolerance goes up, the muscles are supplied with seemingly endless energy, and you loose all sense of fine motor skills." Joshua unhinged the tongs and grabbed something from the fire.  When he pulled them back,  a hot coal was hissing between the metal.  Kieran struggled. 

"What's your name boy?" Joshua asked as he came back.  The blasted tongs were still in his hands.  Kieran answered with a glare and spat at Joshua's feet.  A fist collided with the side of his head.  The action caused him to bite his tongue, salty blood filling his mouth.  He spat it out, coughing.

"He asked you a question." Frederik hissed angrily, grabbing Kieran's hair and yanked his head back.  His throat was exposed, and panic bubbled up inside his body.

"K-Kieran."

"Just K-Kieran?" Joshua mocked.  A tear streaked down his cheek and Kieran wanted to hit himself. 

"Kieran D-Duffy."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Joshua said, and he knelt down in front of Kieran, caressing the tongs like a long lost lover. 

"Kieran Duffy, I need you to tell me something very important.  Where is Dutch Van Der Linde hiding?"

Kieran's body went cold, like he'd submerged under Lake Isabella.  What did he want with Dutch?

He was expecting Joshua to ask if there were more bounty hunters coming. This really took him off guard. 

"W-why?"

Joshua shrugged, bringing the hot coal dangerous close to his face.  The red hot light stung Kieran's eyes, steam rising off into the air. 

"Personal reasons really. More of a revenge thing." Joshua almost brushed it against his cheek and Kieran winced, squeezing his eyes shut, "You see, me and Dutch have a history, but I'll spare you the details. All I want to know is where he is."

Kieran remained silent. 

"Well..." Joshua started, and stood up, "I've always wondered how long a hot coal can touch the skin till it becomes unbearable."

Frederik cut the ropes off his sore wrists and wrenched his arm outwards, and Kieran fought back, pulling and screaming bloody murder.  He thrashed around like a wild animal as Joshua rolled up his sleeve.

Hyperventilating, Kieran could only watch as that cursed coal came nearer and nearer to his bare skin. The heat was unbearable even though it wasn't touching him.

When it made contact, Kieran was sure Arthur could hear his scream all those miles away.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man that chapter title was misleading huh? Hahaha hope you enjoyed :)


	4. Rescue Missions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :') just more pain I'm not sorry  
> I love suffering can't you tell?  
> It'll switch back and forth from Arthur's and Kieran's POV  
> Things get explained a little and no surprise, I'm not to proud of this one :')

Arthur Morgan woke up face down in the snow.  A rather undignified position for anyone except Arthur.  He wouldn't have a problem with it, but it was fucking cold and snow covered his face and made his skin numb.  Not to mention his aching head and sore nose.  The snow kinda helped it.

His head pounded in time with his heartbeat. It hurt. Really, really badly.  Like a hangover gone wrong.  Arthur groaned as he slid his arms underneath him tenderly, trying really hard not to disrupt his throbbing head.  He pushed himself up into a sitting position.  His stomach churned, and he cradled his face, hoping he didn't throw up all over himself. 

"Oh god..."

Arthur wiped the remaining snow off his face.  Eyes stinging, he blinked away the bleariness.  The sun shone down, reflecting off the snow, only adding to the brightness of the setting.  The sky was a brilliant blue, and birds flew back and forth across it with caws.  His eyes squinted in the harsh light, the sun stabbing him in the brain.  God everything _hurt_.

Arthur touched the back of his head delicately, fingertips coming back coated in blood.  It shone in the light, looking fresh.  Fresh?

He stared at it for a moment, heart slowly starting to beat faster. 

 _How? What the fuck happened?_ _How did I get here?_ Arthur thought groggily. Arthur took his time getting up, legs wobbling as he stood.  Black flowers danced across his vision, and the urge to vomit became stronger.  His head felt like deadweight, and he wanted to just lay back down and sleep.

Arthur grunted, leaning over with his hands on his knees, trying to calm his beating heart and his upset stomach. 

A wide expanse of white snow greeted his eyes when he straightened.  Mountains outlined the flat land, trees erupting from the ground, their branches absolutely covered in snow. Where was he?

Arthur didn't recognize the landscape, eyebrows stitching together, and he turned around. Immediately he was faced with a thick forest.  

Something caught his eye in the distance, past the thick trees. A tent flap was waving carelessly in the wind.  Cautiously, Arthur trudged through the deep snow. It took a little bit, mostly because he had to keep stopping, having to calm his stomach or rid of the sharp pangs in his head.  He approached a clearing with two tents set across from each other.  One, destroyed, the other completely untouched. 

_My campsite..._

A campfire lay in front of them, two saddles side-by-side, covered in a thin layer of snow.   The fire was stomped out, smoke creeping from inbetween the logs. All around the camp, the snow was indented with various footprints of all species.  Deer, horses, and...people. 

Arthur's eyebrows stitched together, and he straightened slowly.  Although his memory was fuzzy, he didn't remember walking around last night.  Especially not enough to literally trample shin-deep snow down.  

The second tent was an absolute mess; the flaps were completely gone, having been tore off by...something.  The thing that made his stomach drop was the bullet holes riddling the canvas. A fight occurred here.  Arthur did not recall taking part in it. 

 _What happened?_ Arthur thought as he circled the campsite, body now tense and ready for a fight.  The fuss his head was making stopped, thank god, and was now just a dull throb.  His thoughts were a bit more organized, and he could actually focus, trying to piece together what exactly happened.  Who was with him? Where did they go? Was it Hosea? Dutch? Sean?

God forbid it was Micah. 

As Arthur touched his tent with gentle fingers, still trying to figure out what happened, a snort sounded from behind him.  Arthur's heart jumped with him, and he whirled around, gun drawn and ready to fire.  He was sure he was going to miss; his hands were shaking. 

Buckaroo gave him the most unimpressed look a horse could manage, shaking his head at Arthur.  Sighing, Arthur put his gun away and approached the stallion with a wary hand outstretched.

"Hey boy." He whispered, rubbing the horses' nose gently.  Buckaroo pushed his head into Arthur's shoulder and blew out his nose, the warmth seeping through his jacket, "Have any idea what happened?"

There was a whinny, short and shrill, and the sound of hooves trotting approached them.  Arthur's hand dropped to his revolver by his side, ready to draw. 

Buckaroo turned his head to greet the horse and nickered softly.  It was...Branwen, head high and nostrils flared.  The whites of his eyes showed, and he stopped right beside Buckaroo, pressing his nose into stallion's mane. 

_Why is Branwen here? Did he follow me here?_

The usually calm stallion flinched away from him when Arthur reached his hand out to pat the stallion.  He reared up. 

"Woah easy!" Branwen came down slowly, tossing his head, "You're okay..."

He pet the stallion's head, stroking his soft muzzle. 

Branwen was Kieran's horse.  Branwen never left Kieran's side. 

"Kieran..." Arthur whispered as though the answer would magically appear in front of him.  Like it would answer all his questions.  So that was Kieran's tent, destroyed and covered in bullet holes. So _where_ was he?

Arthur realized his blood was smearing all over Branwen's face. Blood...Kieran was bleeding the last he saw him. Realization hit Arthur like a train.   

They were bounty hunting.  Joshua Lake and the Grizzly Gang.  They were tracking him down and Joshua found them instead.  How? He remembered blood splattering from his nose, his almost broken nose, and Kieran bleeding from his head.  A big looking brute of a man captured him, took him away but where? Where? 

The map.

Arthur quickly pulled away from Branwen, the action making the stallion jump, and he dug around in his satchel.  It was a miracle they hadn't searched through it and left him without his things.  With shaky fingers, he withdrew the map he'd stolen off the Grizzly Gang member he'd shot, and held it up in the light. 

That circle on the valley. That must be where they were keeping him.  Arthur still couldn't believe that member had a map of his boss' location. 

Dumb luck, Dutch would call it.  Arthur happened to agree.

Arthur's jaw clenched and his hands tightened around the map.  He casted a glance over to Kieran's tent, and his anger only grew tenfold. 

They had him.  They had _Kieran._

Arthur didn't bother to saddle up Buckaroo and only jumped on the stallions wide back, kicking him into a gallop before he even had a proper seat.  Gripping the stallions long mane, he held on as Buckaroo jumped over fallen logs and pushed through thick bush to where he had been knocked out.  They were there in a matter of seconds. 

Arthur slowed Buckaroo to a stop, peering down at the pristine white snow.  There was drops of blood contrasting against the white, following a choppy line to where hoofprints appeared in the snow.  They were kinda covered by snow, still visible however.  Arthur huffed; he might not need to use the map.  He could just follow their tracks.

So he did, driving his heels into Buckaroo's flank, the horse lurching forward and hooves pounding against the ground as he practically flew across the snowy valley. The wind whipped against his face, and it would've felt cold to anyone else.  Rage kept him warm.  His ears roared with blood, his head no longer pounding in pain.  He grit his teeth so hard, his jaw hurt.

If they did anything to him...

"I'm comin Kieran."

\-------------------

Kieran realized he was not doing okay.  He was so close to cracking, to pleading for the pain to stop.  Every time they walked through that blasted squeaky door, he would force himself to bit his tongue, but they knew they were close to making him talk.  To making him beg for mercy.  Every time he opened his mouth, every time he was close to giving them what they wanted, he would remind himself; would Arthur do this?

No.  No he would not.

He convinced himself Arthur was coming, all the time, every second, every minute, every hour.  He didn't know how long he was down in that dingy basement; a day? Two? It felt like forever, even though he was probably brought to that godforsaken basement yesterday. 

_Arthur ain't like the O'Driscoll boys. He wouldn't forget about me.  He survived._

Those thoughts kept him going, kept his courage, his bravery, up.  He stuck on those thoughts.

 _He's coming to save me,_ Kieran thought desperately, watching as Joshua entered the room once again, this time not even looking or talking to him. 

He went straight for the meticulously placed blacksmith tools, picking up a rather torturous looking leather whip. 

_He's coming. He won't abandon me._

_Will he?_

Everything hurt.  His shoulder the most; he was pretty sure they dislocated it on purpose.  His arms were literally covered in burns from those blasted tongs, the marks red and ugly. 

Kieran was grabbed by his shoulders. He didn't even try to fight back, his energy wasted all those hours ago from screaming. He had nothing left in the tank, only a limp rag doll in Frederik's strong hands. 

"Hook him up." Joshua said, examining the leather whip between pinched fingers. Frederik hauled him up over his shoulder, the action digging knives into his beaten chest.

Christ they beat everything. Legs, arms, chest, back, everything hurt. If he survived, Kieran didn't think he'd be able to move for awhile. 

Frederik dropped him to the ground, the shock of the landing shaking his bones. Kieran gasped in pain, and Frederik grabbed his bound hands and threw them over onto a meat hook, the rope catching the blunt blade and holding his hands up high.

Kieran faced the wall, his back to his torturers. 

Fuck he was gonna be whipped wasn't he?

"Well, Kieran Duffy." Joshua started, and he must've done something to signal to Frederik, because the next thing he knew, his jacket and shirt were torn off, discarded to the floor amongst the dried pools of blood. 

He gasped as the cold air hit his exposed skin. 

"You're gonna tell me what I need to know. I think you already have an idea of what happens when someone defiles me." 

"H-how do you fellers know I'm workin with Dutch?" Kieran choked out, teeth chattering. Joshua chuckled. 

"When my scouts came back from Valentine sayin two 'bounty hunters' were comin to get me, I didn't think too much of it." Joshua laughed, "Until they came back sayin that those bounty hunters worked for Dutch. They overheard a feller, big feller, talk about it at the bar, sayin that he couldn't believe Dutch'd send an O'Driscoll to capture me." 

Boots clicking against the ground drew Kieran's attention to the side of him. He shifted his knees, trying to get away from Joshua as he knelt down to Kieran's level. 

"You ain't exactly 'shoot eight people and survive' material boy." He muttered, grasping Kieran's chin with a gloved hand. Kieran jerked his face away. 

"You said he had a companion, Frederik?" 

The big brute straightened. 

"Uh-huh. Bigger fella, much more fight in 'im than this lil weasel." 

Joshua hummed, cocking his head, those glittering brown eyes studying Kieran's face. It was unsettling. 

"Who are you travelling with?" 

"Like I'd tell you." Kieran hissed. Joshua smiled. 

"Oh I think you'll tell me plenty when I'm done with you. Unfortunately, I'm very short on patience today." 

Kieran barely had enough time to react before Joshua's fist came crashing down onto his cheek, skull vibrating from the intensity. His head rolled, and Joshua grabbed it, forcing Kieran to look at him. It went from unsettling to terrifying. 

"Tell me who you're with or I will make sure you do not survive today." Joshua growled. 

_Its just a name..._

_What's the harm?_

_It'll save your life..._

"Arthur..." Kieran whispered hoarsely. His head dropped from Joshua's grasp. God he felt so pathetic. So weak, so disappointing. 

"Arthur..." Joshua repeated under his breath. He got up, pacing around the room, whip trailing behind him like a snake.

Kieran barely noticed.

Arthur wouldn't have said anything.  Would've kept quiet. Would've stayed strong. 

 _But you're not Arthur_ The voice laughed. 

"Arthur Morgan." Joshua snarled suddenly, and he turned on his heel to face Frederik. 

"Go make sure he's dead. If not, kill him on sight." Joshua ordered angrily, his voice tense and short. Frederik walked out of that room very fast, the door slamming shut behind him. 

Kieran hid his face in his bare shoulder when Joshua came back. 

"You and me are gonna have a lil fun. It's up to you if you squeal, but trust me-" Joshua brought the whip down hard. It cracked like a gunshot, and Kieran groaned.  His skin felt like it was on fire, stinging from the leather, "When I'm done with you, you're gonna wish you never came to this mountain."

"He's alive, he'll come fer me you know!" Kieran cried out suddenly. He was met with another lash, and he bit back a groan.  Joshua chuckled darkly behind him.

"If Mr. Morgan's still alive, I'm counting on it."

\-------------------

Arthur watched as two guards paced around outside of the wooden cabin, rifles in their hand.  He crouched in a bush not to far away, looking through his binoculars.  The cabin was a few yards away, smoke rising from the chimney in grey puffs.  Arthur counted five guards on the outside of the cabin, two making rounds and patrolling, the rest lounging around.  There could be more on the inside, Arthur thought as he pressed the binoculars to his eyes again, trying to spot anyone in the frost tinged windows on either side of the door. 

He couldn't see anything.  No movement.  Nothing. 

The ride to the cabin took longer than Arthur would've liked; a patrol of six Grizzly Gang members were riding along the main path in a line.  Arthur had to take the long way around, leaving Buckaroo hidden amongst the bushes.  He made it without being seen.  Arthur didn't think he'd be able to take six men at once.  His head was still pounding, his nose now burning.  It would've been a very short fight. 

Arthur stayed hidden, crouching in the thickest bush he could find.   He would have either get closer, or kill everyone outside and face the consequences.  Arthur thought for a moment; on one hand, if he went in swinging, they could take Kieran hostage and force him to surrender.  On the other hand,  if he went in stealthily, he could rescue Kieran and THEN kill the entire gang. 

Arthur's hands clenched into fists, the glove creaking.   

He put his binoculars away, unsheathing his knife.  Stealthy was not his strong suite, but he was gonna damn well try.  For Kieran's sake. 

One of the two guards pacing broke away from the routine and headed towards the bushes opposite of him.  It was secluded from the sight of everyone else.  Perfect.   

"Gotta take a leak." He told the other guard, who nodded and continued on his way.  Arthur saw his chance.  Take out one, the others will investigate and break up.  Take them out one by one until there was none left and go into the house.  Arthur was prepared for a fight once he got to the door. He just hoped Kieran was fit enough to help him fight his way out. 

The man stopped by the bushes.  He was busy, focused on his business, to focused to even hear Arthur approach him from behind.  The knife moved quick, a flash of silver followed by a spray of blood coming from the open wound in the man's throat.  Arthur guided the man down and hid him the bushes. He moved a little ways away from the body and knelt on his knees, the snow soaking into his pants.  

Now, he needed to wait. 

Stealthy meant waiting for the perfect opportunity.  Maybe that's why Arthur didn't like it, having to wait forever before people really started to notice their friends' disappearance.  The time he was outside was more time for Joshua to do whatever he wanted to Kieran.

And that really pissed him off. 

The second guard continued his pacing for a few more minutes before he realized his friend was gone.  Arthur's legs were turning numb from the excessive crouching, heart pounding in his chest.  He didn't know why.   

The guard looked around his surroundings, confusion clearly on his face.  His gaze fell onto the bushes where Arthur was hiding.  Arthur leaned back more into the thick brush. 

"Tim?" He called inquisitively, walking over to the brush.  Arthur tensed, hand tightening around the bloodied knife.  The moment the guard stepped foot into the bush, Arthur was on him, knife burrowing its way into the man's throat.   He went down with a loud choke, blood shooting out of his mouth.  The guard didn't get back, but the other Grizzly Gang members heard his choking noise.

Arthur darted into the thicker part of the bushes, cursing under his breath.

"Fuck..."

The three lounging around snapped to attention. They their guns out slowly. They approached the bush cautiously, and Arthur was sure they knew where he was. 

"What was that?"

Arthur slowly put his knife away, eyes fixed on the guards stomping their way into the bush.  He drew out his guns, loading them as quietly as possible.  This was it.  No more stealthy kills.  Arthur crawled over to the nearest tree and hid behind it, taking a big breath in. Get rid of them and face the consequences. Arthur let out his breath. He just wished they were stupid enough to leave Kieran alone. 

The guards stomped around loudly, searching through the bushes, leaves rustling and twigs snapping. 

"What the fuck?" One of the guards exclaimed.  They must've seen either the blood or bodies. 

Arthur whispered a "Here we go..." under his breath and popped out from behind the tree, aiming at the nearest one.  The guard barely registered what was happening before Arthur put a bullet through his eyes.  The last two shouted in surprise, fumbling with their guns. 

"He's her-" The guard didn't finish his sentence, dead from a bullet to the nose.  The other regained his bearings and jumped behind a thick pine tree, quick enough that Arthur missed his shot.

"You made a mistake coming back friend." The guard laughed, firing a shot at Arthur.  He dodged behind a tree just in time, "Joshua don't take to kindly to Van Der Linde folk round here.  Surprised your buddy survived as long as he did."

Those words made Arthur grit his teeth. 

"That so?" Arthur prompted, "Where's yer boss now? Surprised he ain't out here fightin."

"Oh he will be." The guard shot another bullet, hitting the tree.  Wood chips flew into the air.  Arthur whirled around his cover and shot, hitting the guard in the hand.  He dropped his gun with a yowl of pain.  Arthur cut it off with a bullet to the brain. 

"Piece of shit." He grumbled under his breath.  His heartbeat roared in his ears, and when it calmed down, the air was silent. 

It was quiet for a moment.  Arthur, tense, pushed through the bush, smoking guns still raised. Nobody came out with Kieran at gunpoint, threatening his life. 

Odd. 

Arthur slowly approached the seemingly empty cabin, footsteps sinking in the deep snow.  The snorting from the gang's horses was the only thing filling the air, and for some reason, that put Arthur on edge.  He stepped up the cabin stairs, breath quickening. 

Something was wrong.  Very wrong. 

Arthur opened the door slowly, so slow the squeaking of the hinges squealed in the silent cold air.  He was expecting a dingy cabin with holes in the roof and blood everywhere.  He was hoping Kieran was right there.  A quicker rescue. 

He was wrong. 

The floorboards creaked as he entered the small cabin.  There was a fire lit in the corner, a table and a few chairs, the table filled with empty plates.  It looked like a regular average house.  The only thing wrong with it was the handrailing.  Arthur tilted his head, approaching it cautiously.  There were stairs leading downwards towards a single door, and when Arthur peered closer, there were bloody handprints staining the wood.  Arthur's heart jumped in his throat.  He practically flew down the stairs, almost tripping in the middle. 

He didn't know what to expect when he burst through that cursed door.  He was prepared for a slightly marred Kieran, tied up but okay. 

He was not expecting the broken form, the broken body, tied and curled in the corner.  Kieran visibly flinched when the door slammed open, and he didn't look up.  Arthur's heart broke when he hid his face.

"I already told you! I ain't tellin you anything!" Kieran shouted, voice cracking, shoulders heaving. 

God his one shoulder was poking out, almost awkwardly.  A dislocated shoulder it looked like.  Arthur winced.  He'd suffered many of those in his time. 

"Christ what did they do to you..." Arthur murmured, kneeling down beside Kieran and placing a hand on his uninjured shoulder.  When Kieran's head snapped up, Arthur was not expecting the amount of relief and appreciation flooding them.

"Arthur!" He exclaimed.  Arthur immediately cut the ropes digging into Kieran's wrists; they were wound so tight it left deep red marks on his delicate skin.  Kieran held onto his injured shoulder, cradling it almost, as Arthur cut off the rope tying his boots together. 

Arthur helped Kieran up slowly, one hand on his bare chest to keep him from falling forward, and the other on his back to keep him stabilized.  His arms were covered in burn marks, back marred with whip-like gashes, and he was favouring his one leg. 

"I knew you'd come back fer me!"

It broke Arthur's heart. He sounded so broken. So...defeated.  

Arthur saw Kieran's bloodied shirt and jacket, and picked them up, helping Kieran into them gently. 

"Course I'd come back fer you. You're my partner.  Now here, get these on. We don't have much time." 

Kieran gave him a weak smile. With dried blood crusted on his face, black bruises covering his eyes, and looking disorientated, Kieran looked half-dead. 

Rage bubbled up inside him, but he kept a straight face, a soft face. No need to worry Kieran.

Kieran winced as when he moved his dislocated shoulder into the shirt, and Arthur put his jacket on for him to avoid any more pain. 

Arthur was silent the entire time, seething with anger. He wanted revenge. He wanted to make Joshua suffer for everything he'd ever done. For killing all those goddamn people, for torturing Kieran, thinking he'd get away with it. 

"I didn't tell 'em anythin' Arthur." Kieran whispered suddenly. Arthur realized Kieran must've mistaken his silence for anger towards him, "They tried, but I didn't give anything to 'em." 

_You're stronger than I thought_

"Good. If you did, I reckon I would have to leave you here." 

Kieran looked frightened for a split-second before Arthur smiled. 

"I'm messin with you." 

Arthur slung Kieran's arm over his shoulders and helped him to the door, his other hand holding a pistol in case anyone ambushed them. 

The trip up the stairs was tricky; it was only wide enough for one man, and Kieran was still disorientated, stumbling up the stairs like a drunk. Arthur took it slow with him, stopping every time Kieran fell down, or missed a step. 

Arthur grasped the handrail at the top, using it as leverage to haul himself and half of Kieran's weight up. 

"Any idea where Mr. Lake is?" He grunted.

Kieran went white, and he shook his head. 

"I thought you...didn't you shoot em? They went lookin fer you." 

So that's what that patrol of six was.  A search party.  Good thing he didn't run right up to them with guns blazing.

"They weren't there." Arthur mumbled, peeking his head over. He'd left the door open, the white light pouring into the dark cabin. It looked clear, empty. 

But something didn't feel right. 

Arthur helped Kieran the rest of the way, and stopped by the doorway. 

"Stay here. Somethin ain't right." Arthur helped Kieran sit down, and passed him one of his revolvers, "Use this." 

Kieran took it gingerly. 

"Be careful." Kieran muttered, eyes wide. Arthur nodded. 

"I will." 

Arthur poked his head around the open doorway. The only thing outside were the horses hitched to the flimsy hitching post. He scanned the trees, trying to find someone hiding there, possibly with the intent to kill. 

Nothing. 

He'd have to worry about it later. Right now, Kieran needed his attention more than a wanted criminal. 

Arthur turned back to Kieran, moving to help him up.  

"C'mon, let's get outta he-" 

A bullet whizzed by Arthur's ear suddenly, a painful ringing sound screaming in his skull.  Arthur slammed himself down against the wall, opposite to Kieran. Just in time too; seconds later, the entrance was alit with bullets. 

"Ambush!" Kieran squeaked out, a bullet hitting the glass window above him, sending glass shards flying. Arthur fired blindly at their assailants. 

Shit! He should've checked the perimeter, should've searched around, should've done _something_ to prevent this.  Such a rookie mistake.  He'd fallen right into their trap.

 _All because I was more worried about Kieran than a fucking ambush,_ Arthur thought angrily, feeling wood chips from the doorway hit his clothes with light taps. 

Such a stupid mistake.  He was no better than Sean for that.  Dutch would laugh if he were there. 

"My best fighter," He'd laugh, "Forgetting to take extra precautions."

When the firing died down, Arthur popped out from behind to fire his own shots.  For the split second he could see, there was a line of about twelve men, all armed and peeking out from various objects strewn about.  His bullet took one out, a shot in the skull, and he went down immediately.  The firing started up again, and Arthur barely moved out of the way of the incoming onslaught. 

"Eleven men. All armed." Arthur said, voice raised so Kieran could hear him above the gunfire. 

Kieran went to peek out of the window, almost as if to confirm what Arthur was saying.  A bullet smashing into the wood beside the window had him ducking very quickly. 

"Stay down, you idiot!" Arthur shouted, popping another bullet off. 

"Y-yeah I reckon there's eleven."

Arthur opened his mouth to shout at Kieran for being such a stupid idiot, but another voice stole away his attention.

"What I tell you boys! They always come back for each other." The voice, low and deep, laughed louder than the bullets firing.

Kieran's already pale face went paler, a paper white. He audibly swallowed. 

"Joshua."


	5. Ambushes More Like Retreats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who left comments and kudos!!! :)  
> Unedited so all mistakes were unseen!

"That feller out there's Joshua?" Arthur hissed. The anger in his voice was scary almost; that coupled with the fire in his eyes made Kieran blink owlishly.  He nodded slowly, dumbly almost, and that made Arthur even more angry.  He wasn't expecting Arthur to practically be boiling with rage over this.  Granted Joshua did order an attack while they were sleeping, and granted they left him knocked out in the snow for wolves to come eat, but it was Kieran who was tortured.  Not someone Arthur really cared about.  He'd see it if it were Lenny, or Hosea, or even Micah.  Not him. 

"Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way, my dear friends." Joshua's voice purred over the silence that had fallen upon them.  Kieran peeked up the same moment Arthur did.  Joshua was standing in the middle of his men, forming a line.  In Joshua's hands were double pistols, golden in colour, and that made Kieran want to laugh.  Arthur curled a lip at them.  

Joshua's gaze fell on Kieran's and he smiled, teeth exposed, cigarette clamped between them.  It reminded Kieran of an animal baring their teeth. 

"We can all leave this mountain alive _if_ you surrender and throw your guns to us." Joshua sheathed his pistols, but his men didn't follow his action.  He lit a cigarette and puffed out a cloud of smoke as he spoke, "We can resolve this peacefully. Like real men."

 _Resolve this peacefully_ had Kieran feeling very uneasy.  Nothing about that man was peaceful.  He slapped a calm charade on, lulled his victims into a false sense of security, (though Kieran saw past his lies) and that's when he wanted something.  And he wasn't scared to get what he wanted.  After all, he evaded the law for how long and got away with all he did without seeing the hanging rope or a firing squad. 

Joshua wasn't speaking the truth.  He was only doing what he did best.  Lie.

Kieran knew that firsthand after all; he'd tried to bargain with Kieran for information, promising freedom, promising _riches_ and much much more. The way his eyes glinted when he spoke those things made Kieran almost regret ever coming to that mountain. 

Arthur huffed a laugh, snapping Kieran out of his thoughts. His grip on his revolver tightened. 

"You think I'd fall fer that trick?"

Joshua chuckled, dark and deep.  Evil.

Kieran's skin crawled and prickled with unease. 

"No. I was hoping you were smart and would see it my way. Unfortunately-" Joshua sighed much like an exasperated parent and snapped his fingers, "-you're like the rest of the bounty hunters. Focused on money instead of their lives."

They both narrowly avoided their heads being shot off before the gunfire bombarded the already abused cabin.  Sunlight trickled through holes bullets left behind.  Kieran shrank down, hoping to avoid getting hit through the wood.  Arthur popped off a few shots through the doorway, almost getting hit when the guns pointed to him. His gun clip emptied fast, hammer clicking back without discharging a bullet, and Arthur snarled angrily, sheathing it forcefully.

Kieran went to do the same; after all, he'd gotten this far without getting seriously hurt or injured.  Well, his dislocated shoulder hurt really bad every time he moved, so that might be a problem. 

In fact, when he leaned over to the doorway and fired his gun, his shoulder screamed in pain at him from the rough movement. Vision swimming, stomach flipping, he slammed his back against his hiding place. He took his head in his hands, trying to alleviate the light-headedness.  He needed to help, not be a bother. He was a bother in camp, not here.  Arthur gave him a worried look before it melted back to anger. 

Kieran watched through blurry vision as Arthur fumbled around for something in his satchel.  He pulled out a thin stick of dynamite.  Kieran's eyes widened when Arthur struck the match against the ground and lit it up the small fuse, flame sparking and hissing.   Kieran's voice cracked as he croaked out a  "Holy-" and his sentence was cut off.

Arthur chucked it out the doorway as if he were throwing a ball to someone. It landed with a splat in the snow right in front of the firing squad. 

"Oh FUCK!'

"Run!"

The explosion was loud, sudden, forceful, sending various things flying, tree bark, twigs, barrels, the odd box that was meant to sit on. It sent people flying too, no surprise. Horses reared, whipping their heads back and forth, snapping their hitching posts and galloping away.  Snow showered onto everything from the air.  Dirt from underneath the snow surface sprayed the cabin. 

Arthur was the first to poke his head up.  Kieran followed closely behind, ears whistling from the blast.  Bodies littered the ground, blood smearing the snow and their clothes burnt from the blast.  Kieran counted five that were definitely dead.  One had his head off, a stump on his neck remaining. 

None of them looked like Joshua. 

"W-where's-" Kieran steadied the shake in his voice by clearing his throat, and he glanced to Arthur, "Where's Joshua?"

As if on cue there was multiple sounds outside, shuffling, painful groans and coughing.

"Get 'im outta here." A voice commanded, thick and growly. 

Fuck, it was Frederik. The big burly man was probably seething with rage.  Kieran wasn't surprised that he'd survived the blast.   

Kieran peeked over the windowsill again. Seven remained still, two of them helping an unconscious Joshua up.  It was comedic really, and Kieran wanted to laugh. But he stayed quiet because Arthur kept his own mouth shut, and he'd embarrassed himself enough already with being captured and all.  Joshua was bleeding heavily from the head, a gash marring his forehead. Two men helped him to where their horses were waiting in the bush. The rest of the men followed them closely behind, some holding their sides, others looking disorientated. They all had their guns pointed to the cabin, as though it were a warning, a dare for Kieran and Arthur to come out. 

Frederik threw them one last look, full of mirth and anger before he trailed after them, limping with rifle pointed towards the cabin. He too was bleeding from his head, nose probably broken.  Arthur went to look. A bullet hit the wood right in front of Arthur, wood chips spraying up. 

"Don't even think of followin! You got lucky this time!" He roared angrily as he reloaded.  Bush rustling, a horse snorting, hoofprints pounding away, the big man was gone.  Then, it got quiet. Kieran could only hear his racing heart.

Arthur got up very slowly, head still watching the ruined landscape. It was eerily silent.  Arthur held a hesitant hand to Kieran, still surveying the surroundings. Probably watching for a second ambush.

"Let's go." He muttered with a glance out the door.  Kieran took his hand gratefully. His dislocated shoulder protested against the movement. The pain gripped him and his head went light, vision blossoming with black.   

"Easy now." Arthur said, steadying him when he fell forwards.  Kieran allowed himself to be helped out like an old person, a large hand on his upper back between the shoulder blades, and his arm slung on Arthur's shoulders. 

"What 'bout Joshua?" Kieran hissed when they stepped over a body, shoulder jarred from the action.  Arthur repositioned him more comfortably as Kieran threw a glance to the trampled bush, hoofprints engraved in the deep snow. 

"We worry bout gettin you outta here first." Arthur whistled for his horse after he spoke.  Kieran let his head hang tiredly, eyes burning with exhaustion, much like the rest of his body.  Those torture sessions took a lot out of him. 

Even his bones were tired.  Kieran did not think that was possible. 

Buckaroo came galloping through the deep snow, saddleless and without a bridle.  Kieran stared.  Arthur must've came in quite a hurry to forget them. 

"Don't worry 'bout me." Kieran mumbled, tongue heavy in his mouth, "Get Joshua, leave me here.  I'll find my way back."

He doubted he could.  He'd probably collapse if Arthur let go of him, but there was no need for Arthur to worry.  Arthur came here to collect a bounty money, not to worry and care for him. 

"And have you ambushed by more of his gang?" Arthur scoffed, boosting Kieran up onto the stallion's wide back.  Arthur jumped on in front of him smoothly, grabbing Buckaroo's mane in a fist.

Ah. So that's how he steered the hot-headed horse. 

"We worry 'bout him after." Arthur concluded sharply as he urged the horse into a walk.  Buckaroo swished his tail irritably at the weight of two people, throwing his head up and down like he were trying to get rid of pesky flies.  Kieran patted the stallions' rump apologetically. 

Kieran moved both arms to wrap around Arthur's waist.  Boy oh boy did he think he was going to pass out with the way his head swam from pain, the way his vision threatened to go black on him.  He did not need to fall off a 17 hand high horse with the injuries he had, thank you very much. 

So, his arm dangled quite uselessly beside him, and even the walking motion of the horse made his shoulder sing with displeasure.  He kept one arm, his good arm, wrapped securely around Arthur.

"If you fall yer bringin me off too." Arthur snorted, though he made no movement to snatch Kieran's arm off.  Thank god. Between his light-headedness and the fact his balance was fucking off, he didn't think he'd be able to stay on by himself.

"You'll break my fall." Kieran said before he even thought about it, "Be better than landin in the cold snow." He said it like it was the most causal thing in the world, like they didn't have to worry about the gang members coming back to finish them off.  Like they were just on a leisurely ride through the snow. 

This was anything but leisurely, and he had to keep reminding himself that Joshua was _still out there_ and he had to keep his guard up.  Kieran leaned heavily into Arthur's broad back, the soft plush of his coat only coaxing him further. It wouldn't hurt to let Arthur keep watch.  After all, he _did_ just get tortured for god knows how long.

Plus, they were probably too occupied with Joshua to worry about them. 

Kieran didn't even realize he was practically cuddling with Arthur until he stiffened up. 

"Comfortable back there?"

Kieran straightened, much to his body's complaints.  He was comfortable.  Might've actually fallen asleep.  Buckaroo's smooth walk coupled with the warmth of Arthur's clothes, it wouldn't have been hard for him to slip away into dreamland. 

"S-sorry bout that." Kieran said tiredly, and he didn't mean to sound so pathetic. 

 _What the actual hell?_  Kieran thought bitterly.  

But Arthur didn't make any accusations, didn't snarl at him to stay away which Kieran found very surprising.  The old Arthur would've probably left him in the cabin, now that Kieran looked back, and he would've definitely made Kieran walk back to the camp.  Wouldn't have batted an eye at his wounds when Arthur came crashing through the door, but he did.  He'd looked angry, sympathetic.  Sad.

"It's fine kid. You look like you've been through hell." Arthur said in a low tone, a soft tone like a mother comforting her child. He sounded sorry for him. Kieran had no qualms with that. Right now, he was okay with being felt sorry for. 

"Yeah." Kieran sighed, leaning back into Arthur's clothes.  Buckaroo stomped through the forest with ease, and they broke from the small forest-like area that surrounded the cabin.  Kieran was not sad to see it fade back into the distance, "They thought of everythin."

"You're fine now. They ain't gonna getcha." Arthur soothed, and Kieran grunted, eyes fluttering closed on their own accord. God, what time was it?

The sky was still a bright blue, so maybe mid-afternoon? It felt later.  Much later.

"We ain't safe yet." Kieran reminded. The chill in the air crackled with uncertainty, and Kieran knew the gang was still out there and planning.  Joshua probably survived the blast. 

 _Unfortunately_ Kieran thought angrily.  He found himself searching the bushes with a sharp eye. 

"We'll move camp somewhere else. Make 'em think we left if they go back an' check."

" _If_." Kieran parroted with a hint of humour in his voice. His head rested back against Arthur's back, "I think them fellers are pretty hellbent on killin us now."  

Arthur barked a laugh, startling Buckaroo into a trot. 

"Oh I think they might be past that. Torture us maybe." Arthur spoke as he slowed Buckaroo back down, patting the stallion apologetically on the neck.

"Torture ain't fun I can tell you that."

"I believe you." Arthur chuckled. They fell into a comfortable silence after that, Kieran falling half asleep on Arthur's back as Buckaroo walked back towards their camp, high-stepping through the deep snow.  The adrenaline he'd been feeling during the fight was wearing off, and now his whole body hurt.  His shoulder the most, a constant aching and sharp pains gripping his arm.  His burns were stinging against the fabric of his shirt, his back burning from the lashes.  When Buckaroo tripped over a hidden log, his head fogged up with a headache, a sharp headache that sent his eyes watering.   

"Ouch..." Kieran hissed, pressing his forehead against Arthur's back, hoping to stave the pain.

"What they even want anyway?" Arthur question when Kieran took his head off and rested his cheek against a shoulder blade.

"Somethin bout Dutch." Kieran mumbled, and his heart stuttered as he spoke a quick "I didn't tell 'em anything."

Arthur didn't seem angry that they asked about Dutch, didn't make any indication he was worried Kieran told them something.

"I know." He said over his shoulder, a smile on his face.  He sounded so sure, so confident in Kieran. Kieran hid the blush blossoming on his face by burying it in Arthur's back.  He decided against telling Arthur how close he was to cracking, how much he wanted to make the pain go away.  That the only thing keeping him quiet was the thought of Arthur.  Him. 

That would only make things awkward, and the way he was feeling right now, he didn't want it to get awkward. 

Bushes tugged along his legs, trees appearing in his field of view.  They were near camp at least.  A whinny from somewhere ahead of them made Kieran lift his head to look past Arthur's shoulder.  HIs heart leaped in joy when he saw Branwen trotting up to them, nickering with bright eyes.

"Hey bud." Kieran held his hand out for the stallion to sniff.

Arthur stopped Buckaroo gradually, sliding off with a grunt.  Branwen flinched away, but came right back to Kieran, nostrils flaring as he drank in Kieran's scent.  Kieran felt Arthur grab his sides, gently helping him to the ground like he was a mere child.  And honestly, he was okay with that. What he wasn't okay with was how fucked up their campsite was.

Arthur's tent was completely untouched, everything still in it's proper place.  His tent, however...

"They just _had_ to destroy it." Kieran uttered, feeling Arthur throw his good arm around his shoulders. Arthur sucked in air sharply between his teeth.

"Looks like you'll have to share with me."

( ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )

Something in the back of his head whispered _good_ and he happened to agree with it. And surprisingly, Arthur didn't sound irritated by the mere thought of sharing with him, nor did he sound annoyed.  Arthur sounded completely okay with it.

The bullet holes were everywhere on his tent canvas; there was no way he could sleep without feeling cold or waking up to snow piled in on his stuff.  He had no choice but to room with Arthur.  And he sure as hell didn't mind.

Arthur helped Kieran down to the ground. Branwen was right at his side, nose nudging his head.  The horse was waved off by Arthur.

"Should fix that shoulder now 'fer it gets worse." Arthur said, kneeling down beside him, hands moving to grip his arm gently, "Worry bout everythin else after."

Kieran's heart jumped in his throat, and he went to pull away.

"I-It's fine really-" Kieran jumped in pain when Arthur bent his arm at the elbow. Arthur shook his head.

"It'll get worse." He repeated, slowly moving his arm to the side and up.  The pain worsened to a hot white.  Kieran gripped Arthur with his good arm, teeth clenching to keep from shouting.

Arthur repeated the movement until his shoulder heaved a loud _pop!,_ and Kieran accidently pinched Arthur's arm when the pain flooded through him.  Arthur hissed an _ouch_ and Kieran would've responded with an _I'm sorry_ but he felt like he was going to puke from the pain.  His shoulder burned as bad as his arms did when those blasted tongs touched his skin. 

"That...wasn't so bad." Arthur said with a wince, letting go of Kieran's arm and rubbing his own. 

"Fer you maybe." Kieran bit back, almost angrily, moving his shoulder around experimentally. He didn't even realize what he'd said before Arthur burst out laughing. A real genuine laugh. His laugh was deep and soothing, like thunder but less dangerous.  Kieran found himself craving for more. 

"If I'd known a torture and a dislocated shoulder would make you grow balls, I'd've done it 'fore we got here."

Kieran's jaw dropped when Arthur started laughing his deep laugh again.

"Don't we have a bounty to catch?" Kieran said, voice sharp, but he wasn't mad.  He was smiling as Arthur pushed himself up, brushing the snow off his pants.

"Yeah yeah yeah." Arthur began kicking down his tent, chuckling under his breath as he packed up. 

Kieran helped a little bit; his shoulder still complaining every time he moved it.  It was bearable, he thought as he grabbed Arthur's coffee pot and cooker, folding the cooker up neatly and placing it aside. He threw a glance over to his tent and moved over to it, ducking down inside and rolling up his bedroll.  Even though he couldn't salvage his tent, he could still use the roll, even though it was cold with snow. 

 _Great_ Kieran thought as he shook it out, rolling it up.  Arthur was near done with his own packing, the tent folded neatly and bedroll sitting on top. Kieran brushed the snow off his saddle delicately, wincing at the wet leather under his fingers. 

Arthur appeared at his side, obviously done with packing up, and he grabbed Kieran's saddle with a grunt.  Kieran went to stop him because he was injured, not crippled. 

"I can do that Arthur.  You really don't need to do that." Kieran took the heavy saddle from him and immediately dropped it to the ground with a hiss.  His shoulder seized up, aching and shooting pains down his arm.  Arthur gave him a _really_ look and bent down to scoop it up.

"You seem to forget that yer arm's botched up."

"You seem to forget that I can take care of myself." Kieran shot back. He made a point of calling Branwen over, and throwing the saddle onto the stallions back.  His shoulder sang with displeasure, seizing up again, and it took all of his willpower to ignore the pain, bite back a yelp and force a smile onto his face, "See?"

Arthur shook his head, rolling his eyes and saying nothing as he moved over to Buckaroo, who'd been saddled and was chewing his bit in boredom.

Branwen flicked an ear at him when Kieran got up in the saddle, wincing at his shoulder and almost falling down in the saddle. Branwen grunted and began to follow Buckaroo through the bush.

Arthur had his guns out when Kieran rode up beside him, and Keran took his own revolver out, even though it was probably empty. 

Fumbling with his saddlebag, Kieran searched for ammunition. 

He certainly didn't notice the way Arthur glanced at him periodically. He certainly didn't notice the way Arthur stared. 

And of course he certainly didn't notice how the man smiled at him. 

\----------------

The place they set up was secluded enough, just on the tail end of Lake Isabella in the shelter of the rock outcroppings the mountain provided.  Arthur made sure to weave in and out of trees and bushes, criss-crossing their own tracks to mislead any scouts Joshua sent out.  They did not need another ambush while they were sleeping.  Arthur proposed one of them took watch for a few hours and then switch so the other could get sleep.  The way Kieran's body relaxed, the way he sighed in relief showed he was okay with that.  Arthur was going to take first watch. 

Arthur was sure Kieran could not handle another torture, and he didn't mean it in a horrible way.  The way Kieran looked, eyes dark with bruises, lip split from a terrible beating, shoulder popped out of its joint, arms covered in circular burns...he wouldn't have survived for long if Arthur hadn't rescued him when he did.  There was no way Kieran would survive another attack. Another torture session to that severity.  Kieran barely spoke about it, but the way his eyes would glaze over, the way his face paled when he did speak about what they did, Arthur gathered it wasn't nice.   

Speaking of...

Kieran sat across from him touching his face, fingers brushing delicately over the purple blooms marring his cheekbones.  His mouth twisted in a grimace, hand coming down shakily.  Arthur offered him whiskey when they got there, which Kieran took wholeheartedly, and the bottle sat half-empty next to him.  Kieran's shoulder seemed to be doing better, though when they started setting up camp, he was really favouring it, limiting how much he lifted things.  Kieran all but dropped his saddle, not placing it down gently like he usually did. 

Arthur watched as Kieran took the bottle to his lips again.  

 _God the poor kid's been through hell_ Arthur thought, brows furrowing together in a frown. He stared down at the fire they had.  It would be a wonder if Kieran could even move tomorrow, considering how much pain he looked to be in.  Kieran hadn't said anything about his pain level the entire ride there, only hissing in pain when Branwen galloped to keep up with Buckaroo.  Arthur knew Kieran wasn't trying to worry him, hide how much pain his injuries caused him.  Lenny did the same thing, Arthur thought with a shake of his head. 

A small voice told him to go back, to turn back and leave Joshua behind. Leave so they could return safely back to Horseshoe overlook and never have to worry about him again. 

And when Arthur looked back up to see Kieran struggling to open a can of peaches, he happened to agree with the voice. 

Risk someone's life for money? He'd done it multiple times, sometimes his own life was in danger for a big score. But he couldn't bring himself to put Kieran's life in danger. It just wasn't...right. 

"We should go back." Arthur muttered. Kieran stopped trying to open the can immediately and looked at Arthur like he was crazy. 

"W-what?" 

Arthur made eye contact with the man, those green orbs flooding with confusion. 

"We should go back. Forget bout Joshua. He was right." Arthur sighed and rubbed his face, resting his chin in his hand, "So worried bout money we ain't worried bout our lives." 

_Worried about your life_

Kieran sputtered, setting the can down. He moved to Arthur's side. 

"You...yer kiddin, right?" 

Arthur cocked an eyebrow, and Kieran shrugged his uninjured arm. 

"We got this far. Might as well finish it." 

"Yer hurt Kieran. You can't even raise yer arm proper." 

Kieran looked down to his shoulder briefly. 

"That ain't gonna be a problem." 

"Yes it will be." Arthur chuckled, almost exasperated. Kieran, surprisingly, was stubborn. 

"No it ain't. Trust me..." Kieran moved closer, shoulders almost brushing. He smiled, the fire glinting in his eyes, "I got a plan." 

"A plan?" Arthur repeated, "Yer beginning to sound like Dutch." 

"It'll work Arthur. You still got that dynamite?" 

_Dynamite? What's the kid want with Dynamite?_

"Yes. Whatcha want with dynamite?" 

Kieran smile grew wider, almost maniacally so, and Arthur swallowed. 

_Jesus Christ_

"Dynamite'll make Joshua wish he never came up here in the first place." 

Now that peeked Arthur's interest. 

"I'm listening..." 


	6. I Love It When A Plan Comes Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments!! Love you guys! :D

"So you shoot the stick of dynamite and that's it?" 

Arthur wouldn't lie; it wasn't half-bad of a plan. He would've preferred to lure them in and kill them all like stuck pigs, but they were running dangerously low on ammo. There was no way they could kill all of them with what they had left. Kieran nodded. 

"We need lots though. How many you got?"

Arthur rifled through his satchel and pulled out the sticks, counting them. 

"Six."

Kieran thought for a moment before snapping his fingers like he'd solved the greatest mystery known to man. He grabbed three and dug a line in the snow, placing the three dynamite sticks on one side and leaving the rest on the other.  Arthur watched as Kieran gestured to the set-up, grinning from ear to ear.

"I reckon three on each side'll kill Joshua and his boys."

Arthur stared at the crappy model for a fleeting moment, brain thinking. 

"Sounds good but..."

Kieran eyes flickered nervously. 

"...How we getting em out in the open."

That damn smile returned to Kieran's face, the man probably relieved Arthur didn't tell him the plan was stupid or far-fetched. 

"One of us goes and draws em out.  Y'know, hollering an' shootin' in the air." Kieran imitated the look of guns firing in the air, and Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at the man.  And then Kieran added, "Lead 'em right by the mountain over there."

Kieran threw his thumb back towards a massive mountain, the tip disappearing in the thick clouds covering the night sky.  Kieran breathed out heavily, a smoky grey spilling past his lips into the frosty air and Arthur caught a whiff of peppermint and cigars. 

"I'll go and do it. My firin' arm's a lil injured."

Arthur's had to register what he said for a moment.  Heart stopped, he regarded Kieran with a critical eye. In the silence, the fire cracked and popped, the horses a few feet away snorting and stomping around for any grass.

"No." Arthur finally spoke, and he said it a little harsher then he intended too.  Kieran glanced to him, eyes filled with confusion, "I'll do it. Buckaroo's faster than Branwen."

That was true. The dappled brown horse had some Thoroughbred coursing through his veins, and could easily outrun the heavier Grizzly Gang horses.  Branwen was a standardbred, it seemed like, and they could only do short bursts of speed.  Buckaroo had the ability to keep a fast pace for a few miles before he tried to throw Arthur off. 

Kieran's widened, surprised at Arthur, maybe even a little insulted that he'd said Branwen was slow.  Kieran wasn't dumb; he knew Branwen wasn't as fast as the other gang horses.   

"Arthur, I can't shoot a gun with my left hand. Hell, I could barely shoot a gun with my right 'fore my shoulder got hurt." 

 _He's right,_ Arthur thought bitterly, huffing as he nudging a log back into the fire with the toe of his boot.  Kieran got lucky during the gunfight at Barrow Lagoon, somehow managing to hit more than one person. A miracle really that he'd only been skimmed by a bullet and not hit head-on.   Arthur remembered being surprised that Kieran didn't cower by the horses, and that he'd been wrong about the man's bravery.  It only proved his thinking wrong the moment Kieran opened his mouth and announced he was gonna lead Joshua to the trap. 

That took guts, considering Kieran wanted to confront the same man who tortured him for god knows how long.  Arthur felt his chest warm up in affection, and he squashed the feeling down deep.  He needed to focus on killing Joshua, not his fake feelings.  They'd go away. 

"Kieran..." Arthur began, and he shifted to look at Kieran, who raised an eyebrow, "I'm going."

"But I can-"

"No!" Arthur snapped, eyes glinting angrily in the orange firelight. Kieran flinched away from him, eyes watching him closely. Arthur pointed a finger at the cowering man, anger swallowing him up, "Yer not going."

Kieran scowled in confusion, eyebrows pinching together as he met Arthur's gaze, chin jutting out in what Arthur could only assume was defiance.  Though his shoulders were hunched, meek almost, his eyes glared at Arthur. 

"Why?" His voice shook. 

_Because I don't wanna lose you too. Because I would hate if you got captured again. Even if these feelings are fake I don't want to find out they aren't when you're dead._

Arthur bit his tongue to keep from saying what he was thinking, and rather focused on glaring at the younger man. The cold didn't affect his boiling anger, and probably only worsened his mood. 

_Don't let him know_

"Cuz you can't ride with one hand." Arthur said lamely, and he mentally kicked himself for such a bad excuse. He knew damn well Kieran could ride with one hand. 

"Uh...yes I can?" There was a slight chuckle, nervous though, and Kieran shifted his weight. 

Arthur sighed. _Kieran could look after himself_. 

"Fine." He huffed. Kieran's eyes brightened, and Arthur felt short of breath. 

Fuck, those feelings better be fake. Kieran was going to be the death of him. Arthur sat back down, watching the fire with a tight throat.  He didn't like sending an injured man to attract even more dangerous men.  

Arthur picked up a stick laying next to him and threw it forcefully in the fire. The twig snapped and cracked as the flames licked along it, and Arthur snorted. 

"But yer ridin' Buckaroo. He's faster." 

Couldn't let Kieran have his way entirely. 

Kieran smiled and sat back down on the ground, gathering the dynamite sticks and placing them beside him in a neat pyramid-shaped pile. Those blue eyes lit up in happiness, in satisfaction.  He was probably happy Arthur didn't completely ignore his plan.   

"Whatever you say boss."  

\-----------:)---------

It was afternoon Kieran's eyes cracked open, bleary from sleep.  Last night before they laid down to sleep, Arthur, true to his word, had moved his sleeping bag over for Kieran, and they fell asleep side-by-side. 

They weren't side-by-side anymore though; Kieran realized with a jolt that his midsection was oddly warm, a certain pressure like someone was holding him.  When he glanced behind him, pleasant surprise filled him, followed closely behind with embarrassment.  Arthur's arms were wrapped around him stomach, face buried in between Kieran's shoulders. Arthur didn't seem to be awake, still sleeping soundly.  Kieran however, was suddenly very awake. 

His mouth ran dry when Arthur shifted, lifting his head and blinking owlishly at Kieran. 

_Well shit..._

"Sorry." Arthur spoke softly, his cheeks tinging a splash of red as he sat up, "W-We should get movin."

Kieran watched Arthur shuffle out of the tent, not knowing what to exactly say.  He didn't know what to think. 

He could only try to initiate small talk as they moved around the campsite, getting the horses ready and loading their guns.  Kieran reached for his, remembering they'd left the cabin in such a hurry they didn't try and grab his revolver, and he slowly drew his hand over his face with an exasperated sigh.

"Somethin wrong?" Arthur looked from where he was saddling Buckaroo.  Arthur saw his gun belt was missing, letting his hands unclasp from the saddle's front synch, "Oh."

Sighing, Arthur took out his one pistol, holding the handle out for Kieran to grab.  He hesitated, eyes glued to the gun. 

"How you gonna 'shoot an' holler in the air' without no gun?"

The cool metal of the revolver seeped into his gloves sharply, prickling his skin as he tucked it into his coat pocket.  Arthur tossed him an ammunition box.

"Gonna need some ammo."

Kieran slipped the ammo boxes into a pocket as well.  His throat was tight, a familiar feeling of vomiting creeping up in the back of his throat when Arthur stepped away from Buckaroo and patted the saddle seat.   He felt sick as he mounted Buckaroo, giving the jumpy stallion a pat to the neck. His shoulder throbbed as he hauled himself up, and he squashed the need to wince.  No need to worry Arthur.  Again.  The man had enough to worry about.   

"Hey boy." Kieran mumbled shakily, and Buckaroo settled down, though he still danced around on his hooves.  He picked up on Kieran's energy, nostrils flared so wide Kieran could see pink.  Branwen was also nervous, jumping at the slightest movement or noise.  Arthur struggled to calm him down. 

Kieran wiped the sweat from his forehead with his winter coat sleeve, the cold winter air prickling his clammy skin. 

"By the time I get them dynamite set up, you should have 'em chasin' after you." Arthur grunted as he finished tightening his synch on Branwen.  The horse managed to look confused, his eyes seeming to ask _what the hell was going on_. 

"Good luck Arthur."  He spoke, and Arthur looked to him.  A flash of warmth shot through those green/blue eyes, and Kieran's body eased slightly, heart calming it's assault against his ribs.  Arthur smiled; it had Kieran wondering if that was the last time he was going to see it.  His chest felt hollow as Arthur tipped his hat in a goodbye, and Kieran chalked it up that Arthur didn't know what to say. 

Kieran kicked Buckaroo into a fast gallop, cold air whipping against his face.  God, Arthur was right.  Buckaroo _was_ fast.  The horse practically flew across the snowy plains, jumping cleanly over fallen logs, barely making Kieran rock in the saddle.  He was smooth, and barely breaking a sweat.  They came up to the bush where the cabin was, and Buckaroo pushed through with little trouble, twigs snapping under the horses' hard hooves.   The cabin came into sight, looking just the way it was when they escaped from it. Uneasiness flooded through him, shoulder throbbing in almost a painful reminder of what happened.    

Crows cawed when they flew up from the dead bodies scattered everywhere, their guts spilled from their bodies, flesh and clothes looking they'd been chewed on by more than one animal.  Kieran resisted the urge to gag at the rotting smell.  Buckaroo stopped, and refused to go any closer to the building. 

"I know bud, I know." Kieran stroked the stallion's mane gently.  The stallion circled, and Kieran had to refrain from using his injured shoulder.  It was throbbing enough already as it was. 

Kieran urged Buckaroo where he'd seen Joshua's men haul him.  Buckaroo went through the bush, almost spooking through with nervous flicks of his ear to the cabin.

Deep hoof imprints littered the snow, half-filled from the light snowstorm they got the other night.   They led away from the cabin and across a snowy plain, teeming with deer and bighorns.  Kieran took a deep breath, cold air prickling his lungs as he kicked Buckaroo into a slow gallop.  The landscape whipped by them at terrifying speeds, deer spooking away with flicks of their tails.  He followed the hoofprints.  They hugged a small stream that trickled into Isabella, water flowing over rocks with small bubbles and hiccups, and it led upstream.  When the stream turned away, the prints kept going straight into a small forest.  Small droplets of blood stained the white snow, and Kieran felt satisfaction.  Hopefully it was Joshua's. 

That satisfaction disappeared when they broke the treeline, and Kieran's fear returned full force. 

Familiar buildings filled his vision as he skidded Buckaroo to a stop, snow spraying into the air.  Memories of being starved and threatened filled his mind, and he swallowed, heart pounding.  Buckaroo snorted and pranced at his change in mood. 

Colter stood ominously in front of him, the buildings looking just the same as they had when the gang moved out. Snow covered the rooftops, a few crows resting on top.  It looked empty, vacant, desolate.  The hoofprints led towards the crowd of buildings, though Kieran didn't see any horses outside hitched to the posts. 

Kieran grabbed the cool metal of his gun, the metal prickling his skin through the gloves.  He shakily raised it above his head, other hand tightening around Buckaroo's reigns, a sort of anchor, a sort of preparation of what was to come.  His muscles quivered with unspent adrenaline.  Beneath him, Buckaroo tensed. 

The gun immediately went off when he squeezed the trigger, and Buckaroo jumped, the crows flying from the buildings, cawing angrily.  Kieran held a whinnying Buckaroo back as he shot off another bullet into the air, and another and another until he heard movement.  Crunching of snow, shouting, footsteps heavy against the ground, and saddles jingling as they were moved. 

Kieran whirled Buckaroo around, seeing a man run out of one of the smaller buildings in the split-second glance he threw over his shoulder. 

"They're still fucking here!" He shouted angrily, and Kieran had barely entered the bush when the air crackled with bullets.  They hit logs, trees, sending wood chips flying as Kieran kicked Buckaroo faster, the horse running on pure fear and adrenaline.  Nostrils wide, eyes huge with fear, he threw his head forwards and galloped faster and faster.  

"Do I have to do everything myself?!" Joshua roared, and Kieran heard a horse grunt as though it had received a sharp kick to the guts.  Buckaroo flew out of the bush, startling deer and birds from their rest, and Kieran looked back to make sure they were actually following him. 

Joshua led the pack, his grey horse a little ways away.  Behind him, the rest of his gang followed closely, murder in their eyes.  Frederik aimed and fire a rifle, the bullet just missing Buckaroo's side.  The horse whinnied in alarm and went faster.

"Come get me!" Kieran shouted back, voice high with nerves.  

He got his side of the plan done. 

Hopefully, Arthur got his job done before Kieran got there. 

\-----------:)-----------

Arthur stuck the last dynamite stick into the snow, making sure it was peeking just enough that he could get a clean shot if necessary.  He didn't think he would need to unless the other five didn't blow up.  Breath frosting white in the air, Arthur pushed himself up and dusted the remaining clumps of snow off.  Branwen snorted behind him, looking absolutely miserable and sulky, and he plodded towards Arthur when he whistled for the stud. 

Arthur chuckled, rubbing the stallions' ear comfortingly. 

"I know I ain't Kier-"

Arthur was cut off at the sound of distant gunfire. It echoed sharply off the surrounding mountains, the sound reverberating off the rocky faces. Branwen spooked, Arthur just grabbing his reigns in time to keep the stallion from bolting away. 

"Woah boy!" He shouted, and Branwen whinnied in fear, rearing up slightly. He patted the tense stallions' neck when his feet touched the snowy ground, hooves sinking into the ankle-deep snow, "Yer fine!" 

But Arthur wasn't fine. Gunfire meant that Kieran found them, gunfire meant they were probably shooting at Kieran.  Arthur grabbed his rifle, the only weapon he had that could shoot long distances, and hopped on Branwen, spurring him to the nearest set of bushes.  The noises were getting louder, closer, and they were echoing off the nearby mountain when Arthur jumped off Branwen, hiding behind an old log. 

"Get outta here! Go!" Arthur slapped Branwen on the ass, and the stallion reared, taking off towards the lake. At least Branwen was safe.

He'd feel terrible if Branwen was killed under his watch. 

Arthur crouched low, aiming the scope directly on one of the dynamite sticks. Now all he had to do, was wait. 

The silence was filled with shouts of anger, distant shouts, distant pounding of hooves and horses squealing in alarm. 

And then, rounding a boulder, came Kieran spurring Buckaroo to go as fast as he could. The horse galloped like the wind, snow flying from his heels. It would've been magical, horse running through the snow like nothing, but then a pack of men appeared behind him, Joshua leading the group, red staining his forehead. He looked _pissed_. 

"What does it take to kill them?!" He screamed, popping off a shot at Kieran. Kieran ducked, narrowly missing what would have been a fatal shot to the back of his head. Buckaroo squealed at the close shot, head throwing down as his ass-end came up in a buck. 

_Fuck_

Kieran held onto the saddle horn, struggling to lift Buckaroo's head back up so he couldn't buck anymore.  But his right arm was only so strong, and Arthur, even though he was a little ways away, could see the pain on his face as he fought against the much stronger stallion.   

Joshua and them were coming in closer and closer like a pack of wolves, eyes wild and guns blazing. Arthur had no choice but to move his scope away from the dynamite and start shooting at the approaching gang.  He felt powerless, useless almost, firing shot after shot and missing each one.  The clip ran empty, so he reloaded with very little bullets left.

Kieran lost the already losing battle.  He went flying through the air, a loud yelp resounding from the man as he hit the snowbank hard. Buckaroo went galloping away, saddle empty, reigns whipping through the air.   

Arthur cursed.  Arthur couldn't shoot the dynamite; Kieran was right in the blast range, and would easily be killed from the impact.  Arthur did the only thing he could do with such little ammo...try to hit anyone he could, and hope to god Kieran could take care of the rest. 

Kieran scrambled up, tripping through deep snow in what looked like a sort of run.  Arthur looked at what Kieran was going for; a few pine trees with thick enough trunks to shield him from the inevitable onslaught of bullets coming his way.

The gang peeled off the main path towards him, away from the dynamite waiting in the snow, their horses sweating from exertion as they pounded through the sucking snow.  Arthur picked off a scrawny man, shot going clear through his head, blood raining down from the air like rubies.  The gang skidded to a stop before Joshua pointed right at his hiding place. 

"There he is!" A gang member shouted, and half the group cut off from the main, spurring their horses towards Arthur. Joshua led them.

Arthur noticed they would be within blast range of the dynamite, so, with a deep breath to steady his hands, he aimed for one stick peeking out of the snow, the red a contrast against white.  Thankfully, Joshua didn't notice the deadly sticks hiding under the snow as he galloped right by them. 

_Perfect._

Arthur squeezed the trigger, and immediately after, the loud booming of dynamite cracked through the already tense air.  Fire flew through the air, sending both snow and bodies alike with it.  Arthur hid behind the log, feeling woodchips and dirt hit the log.  The sound of the other dynamite blowing up was deafening, and horses squealed in response. 

Ears ringing, Arthur peeked over the log, nostrils filled with the scent of gunpowder and dirt.  The mayhem was astounding; bleeding bodies, both human and horse, littered the ground, their blood standing the snow. Smoke filtered from the ground, a black mark blemished the ground, a reminder of what happened. 

Arthur slowly stood.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the remaining gang members get up shakily, their horses dazed on the ground and breathing hard.  Kieran was still hiding behind the tree.  His left hand still held Arthur's revolver tightly. 

A deep painful groan drew Arthur's attention away from Kieran.  Joshua was still alive, somehow.  He was crouched down, holding his side with a wince, head pouring fresh blood from a new wound.  Arthur aimed his rifle at the man, stepping out from the bush, finger on the trigger and heart pounding.  Joshua looked up at the sound of crunching snow. 

He bared his teeth, bloodstained and broken, and his hand flew up with a pistol cocked in his hand. His eyes flashed with rage, though Arthur was not the least bit intimidated.   

A standoff.  Great. 

Joshua spat out blood, and Arthur stiffened, finger itching to shoot the man clean through the skull. Joshua smiled wildly, blood dripping from his mouth. 

"You shoulda left when you had the chanc-"

A low rumbling from the mountain cut off Joshua's growled sentence. It grew louder and louder with each passing second, the ground beneath their feet swaying. 

 _Earthquake?_ Arthur thought, struggling to keep his balance.  Their guns left each other, and Arthur fell down hard into the snow.  Arthur glanced to the direction of the mountain, and fear took hold of his body in an iron grip immediately. 

It was like a nightmare, a wave of snow slid down like a stampede from the mountain at alarming speeds, swallowing up the rocks and trees peppering the side. It crushed anything and everything in its path. 

Unfortunately, they were right in its way.   Arthur's tongue stuck to his teeth like glue, heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. 

"Avalanche!" Someone managed to scream over the loud rumbling. 

Avalanche was right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who knows? There may be sum....hand holding in the next chapter.  
> How scandalous ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	7. Avalanches and Stand-Offs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooo boy here we go!  
> Unedited as always, so expect mistakes.

"Avalanche!" The shout was almost muffled by the roaring of the wave of snow crashing towards them.  For a moment, Kieran stared at the wall of white, dazed. How did this happen? Confusion ate at him until he remembered the dynamite going off. 

Christ, it had disturbed the fresh snow atop the mountains.  He should've expected this, that nature wasn't going to let them have their way.  Mother Nature was as unpredictable as Joshua, it seemed like.

Kieran bolted out from behind the trees.  His feet automatically carried him towards where Arthur was, and he barely threw glances towards the gang members who'd been shooting at him.  They too ran, tripping through the deep snow, the avalanche nipping at their heels like some sort of wild animal. Some screamed, some focused on running away from it. 

Kieran's legs refused to work properly, tripping him up and threatening to make him fall.  That was the last thing he wanted to do, especially with the wall of death behind him. If he tripped, he was dead, swallowed up by the avalanche just mere metres away from him.  He'd be proper buried with no hope of ever seeing the sun again. 

Kieran's lungs struggled to cycle in air properly, burning with the intensity of the sun, legs on fire as he pushed through the deep snow, high stepping through the powdery substance.  He happened to glance up, for whatever reason he did not know.  Maybe to check on Arthur to see if he was still alive.

To his relief, Arthur was still standing there, haven't moved since the avalanche began. That relief came crashing down when Kieran saw Joshua pull the trigger, and a moment of fear flashed through him.  He expected a loud bang, one that could be heard over the rumbling. The hammer came back, but no smoke popped from the barrel. There wasn't any loud shot, only the avalanche's tremendous rumbling. 

"He's out!" Kieran wanted to shout in glee, but he decided against it and saved his breath.   

Arthur, himself, readied to shoot Joshua with his rifle. Kieran could see him beginning to squeeze the trigger. Joshua lurched forwards, revolver coming back, hand on the barrel of the gun.

The air was sucked from Kieran's already oxygen-deprived lungs as he watched the vile man bring the butt-end of the pistol across Arthur's face.  He recoiled, dropping his rifle. He fell down in the snow immediately after the blow, clutching the side of his face, fresh blood pouring down and mixing with his hair. 

He didn't get up, didn't even try to push himself up.  Kieran realized with a jolt Arthur was dazed, too dazed to try and escape their impending doom. 

Joshua glanced to the abandoned rifle, probably thinking about shooting Arthur with it.  Kieran ran faster if that was the case, body fully prepared to throw himself in the way of the bullet. Joshua saw him approaching fast and sprinted away from the fallen man.

Kieran was so close, so close to Arthur, he could almost touch him.  If he got there, he could haul Arthur up and save him a second time.  

Too late, he realized, as something slammed into him, sending him crashing to the snowy ground.  It was like a pillow, enveloping him in a fluffy softness only a cloud could have.  That's when something crashed on top of his curled form.  The snow pelted him with a stinging harshness, and he threw his arms up to cover his head.  Fear coursed through his veins, brain trying to comprehend what was happening.  Kieran tried to breath in, and his mouth was immediately filled with snow.  He spat it out.  The snow crushed his legs down, preventing any attempt at escaping.  He was pinned. 

Kieran almost didn't believe he was being buried alive at that point. 

The rumbling stopped almost as soon as it began.  Quiet.  Unnaturally quiet. 

The snow stopped carrying him, stilling from it's sliding.  Kieran was stuck under god knew how much snow.  Thankfully, a small pocket surrounded him. His legs were still trapped, restrained, preventing any chance of escape or digging out.  Not that he wanted too, he was smart enough to know that was a bad idea, considering he had no idea how much snow was atop him. 

It was cold, it was dark, it was lonely.  Hollow. The snow melted on his overheating body, soaking into his clothes and making his skin crawl from the feeling.  He'd either suffocate or freeze to death.  Kieran didn't know which one he preferred, each sounding horrible in its own way. 

Kieran didn't dare shout for help.  That would waste his precious air supply. 

"Okay okay calm down." He told himself, hands coming to his sides.  He shortened his breathing, struggling not to breath to quickly from panic.  His heart pounded in his ears, a more evident symbol he was scared out of his mind. 

He could only curl as much as he could into a ball, try to preserve his body heat and oxygen, and hope Arthur got out and was looking for him. He really hoped it was soon; his shoulder was bothering him again.  Too much movement, he concluded, hoping the snow numbed the sharp pangs of pain shooting down his back. 

\---------------------------

When the fresh wave of icy winter air hit his burning lungs, Arthur gasped like a fish out of water. He clawed at the surface, hauling himself out of the hole he'd dug to get himself out of his freezing tomb.  He laid at the top, struggling to bring down his lightheadedness from oxygen-deprivation.  He did not need to pass out right at that moment.  He'd either die from animals or from freezing.  The sun was sharp against his sensitive eyes; they'd grown accustomed to the dark of the pocket he'd been in. 

Head throbbing from both a headache and his new wound, Arthur pushed himself up.  His legs wobbled like a newborn foals', blood and snow sticky against his forehead. 

"Fucking Joshua." He growled, unsticking his hair from his skin with a hand wiping down his face, scrubbing the snow away.  He flicked his wrist to get rid of it. 

Speaking of Joshua, he couldn't see the man anywhere, nor his goons.  The landscape was empty, all covered in fresh snow, tree's swallowed up by the white powder, some buried to the top. 

 _Hopefully they got buried real deep,_ Arthur thought angrily.  His stomach rolled, threatening to cause him to throw up what little he'd eaten that day. Hands on his knees, Arthur's vision swam and he had flashbacks to when he woke up to find Kieran missing.

Kieran.

"Kieran?" Arthur said suddenly, and he straightened, ignoring how his head pounded, ignoring how his eyes bloomed with black flecks.  A strong level of urgency compelled him to find the younger man before he completely froze to death. Or suffocated.     

Arthur glanced around, finding he was a little ways away from where he was about to shoot Joshua.  The trees he'd been hiding behind to shoot the dynamite were buried to the near top in snow, and the place Kieran had been hiding was completely buried in pristine white snow. 

He hoped Kieran wasn't over there. Arthur reminded himself Kieran was smart, smart enough to run away from an avalanche when it came roaring down. 

"Kieran!" Arthur called, voice ringing out across the mountainside as he trudged through to the closest set of trees. His feet sunk until the snow stopped at his knees, making it even harder for Arthur to trudge through.  He kinda hoped Kieran made it to one of the trees and was buried near one. At least he'd have an air pocket to breath from.  Arthur listened, stopping so the crunch of snow under his boots didn't muffle any sounds. 

Nothing returned his call. Not even an animal, the birds stopped their chirping before the avalanche even began. It was like the animals sensed trouble, sensed something was wrong even before the dynamite went off. 

"We really did it this time." Arthur mumbled under his breath, continuing on with heavy breaths.  Nothing broke the silence except his own breathing, everything seeming to be buried under the snow.  The animals, the people. 

Arthur called again, listening hard, wanting to dig him out of the snow before Joshua made a surprise appearance.  If he survived, that man would be hell-bent on killing the both of them.

"Shoulda left.  Shoulda forced Kieran to go back." Arthur growled, more frightened for Kieran's safety than angry.  He found his gut rolling with nerves, and his nausea returned. 

"Kieran! Holler if you can hear me!" Arthur shouted.  This time, something quiet and muffled answered back.  He froze, stilling his breath as though if he dared let it go he'd never hear the small sound again. 

"Kieran?" He tried again.  This time the sound was clearer, more confident.  Arthur ran to where it was, a few feet away from where he'd originally been, and dropped to his knees, the snow soaking his wet jeans. 

He began digging, scooping up handfuls of snow with freezing fingers.  The sound was definitely a human voice, and as he dug down, it became more evident it was Kieran trapped under there. 

At first, he was sketchy at who it was, but when Kieran's hand snaked out of the small hole he'd made, followed by a relieved "Arthur!", he'd laughed, booming and loud.  Kieran's face was replaced by his arm, snow stuck in his beard and eyebrows, frost coating his eyelashes and making his eyes appear more clear and vibrant.  Beautiful.

"You ain't ever makin the plans again boy!" 

Kieran's lips peeled into a smile and he laughed. 

"Knew you'd find me!" Kieran said happily, though his face twisted up and he coughed soon after speaking, almost in pain.  Arthur frowned, and his immediate thought was that he'd been shot during the chase. He dug a bigger hole for the man to fit through and leaned down, grabbing Kieran's hand to pull him out of the snow.

"You okay? Yer not injured are you?" He asked, concerned, and he started examining Kieran for any evident injuries.  Kieran winced as he was hauled out, slipping and sliding against the snow. He sat down when he came to the surface, panting fresh air and rolling his injured shoulder slightly, grimacing. 

"Shoulder's kinda buggin me, but it ain't that bad." Kieran said, and his voice sounded as though he was masking up his pain.  Tight, taut, short and curt.  Arthur really couldn't do anything with Kieran's pain, didn't have any medicine on him nor painkillers Kieran could use. 

Arthur opened his mouth to say something gruff, but something stopped him. 

His hand was warm, warmer then it should be considering he dug someone out of freezing snow, considering he dug his own ass out of the snow.

Looking down, Arthur realized he hadn't retracted his hand from Kieran's and was holding it gently.  He rose up slowly, helping Kieran stand along the way. Kieran didn't seem to notice his silence, accepting the helping hand.  It was only when he was on his own two feet did he realize they were still holding hands. 

Arthur's eyes remained on Kieran's to see if he was disgusted or anything, but no.  The man's cheeks were rosy, creeping down his neck and over his exposed ears.  It made his freckles stand out, and Arthur had vague thoughts of kissing each and every one of them.  Kieran's lips were parted slightly, teeth exposed in the sun, his eyes as green as emeralds.  Funny, Arthur's never seen one. 

Neither moved. 

Quickly, sharply, he pulled his hand away, missing the flash of disappointment that ran across Kieran's face, missing how his shoulders slumped, how he gripped his hand own hand gently, rubbing a thumb over his gloved knuckles.  

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly, and Kieran snapped out of whatever stupor he was in.   

"We should-we should find Mr. Lake 'fore it gets dark. Don't want any animals getting at us." Arthur stumbled over his words like a lovestruck fool, and he cursed himself silently for being so obvious. Kieran nodded, a small smile gracing his lips. 

"I go one way, you go the other?"

Something in his gut told him not to split up.  Another part told him Joshua was probably buried, and they'd probably not find him underneath all the snow until it somewhat thawed. 

There wasn't any harm. 

"We meet back here." Arthur said with a curt nod, and he turned away to walk where he was supposed to search.  Arthur snorted a few feet away, out of earshot of Kieran. 

_You really done it now Morgan._

\--------------------------- 

Kieran trudged through the snow, the air cool against his overheating skin. He hoped that it kept the hard blush from reddening more against his skin. 

That moment...with the holding...Kieran could've sworn he saw affection in Arthur's eyes when he stood.  Kieran had scanned his face, searching for an emotion, maybe trying to find if he was angry or irritated.  Kieran couldn't help but feel disappointment when Arthur snatched his hand away like he'd been burned. 

_Swore I saw somethin._

Sighing, a white cloud escaping his lips, Kieran stopped by a treeline nearby to where the dynamite had gone off.  It was buried to the mid-way point of the trees, the bushes completely buried with their twigs and leaves poking through like fingers. 

Kieran shuddered at the thought of Joshua somewhere down there, dead or alive and plotting against them.  Kieran hoped he was dead, the man deserved every second of agony he got his way.  Hopefully he suffocated.

Kieran frowned and continued on. 

Ahead, there was an indent in the snow.  Cautiously, hand on his revolver, he approached only to find it was a hole, a deep hole with inky darkness at the bottom. An air pocket.  It looked as though someone had clawed their way out viciously.  And that someone was bleeding heavily.  Blood dotted the pristine white snow like red flower petals, footsteps close beside it.  They led away from the indent and into the trees. His heart pounded in his ears and every instinct told him to turn back and get Arthur, that something wasn't right. He ignored it. 

Kieran followed the crimson trail, hammer clicking back as he loaded a bullet in the revolver's chamber.  The blood and footsteps didn't halt at a body, didn't stop at all.  It kept going, he realized, as the trail snaked through the snow. 

In the same direction Arthur went. 

Arthur was indeed screwed. 

"Fuck." Kieran hissed, and, even though his shoulder was positively throbbing now, he took off running through the snow. 

Tears stung his eyes from the cold air, and he kept running, past the rendezvous point they had agreed on. Arthur's footprints led up a small snow hill, the avalanche had created.  He trudged up it with burning lungs, gasping for air, vision bleary.  He saw Arthur's form.   

"Arthur! Joshua might be-"

Kieran stopped dead in his tracks. 

Arthur was there, yes.

Joshua too.

Joshua had his arm around Arthur's neck, his gun flush against Arthur's temple. Kieran saw it was Arthur's other pistol.  The man sneered, blood covering his teeth and making him look like some feral animal. 

"Shoulda left when you had the chance."

Arthur pulled at the arm, but the unmistakable click of a bullet being loaded made him stop.

"Let me go right now." Arthur spat, grabbing the limb holding him back and pulling hard.  Joshua slammed the gun's handle right against his head. Arthur went limp for a few seconds, and Kieran thought he'd passed out. 

"You've both been nothing but a _pain_ in my side. You had the audacity to try and capture me, and then killed my entire gang. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you both right now." Joshua snarled angrily, blood dribbling from his chin.  Arthur coughed for air, choking. 

Kieran forced himself to stay calm, although his body was crying for him to do something, that he should at least try to shoot Joshua right through his smug face. 

Swallowing, Kieran tried a different approach. 

"If you let my friend go." Kieran said, sheathing his gun to make himself seem harmless.  Joshua's attention snapped to Kieran. Kieran held his hands up in a nonthreatening manner, "We'll leave immediately. We won't look back." 

Joshua barked a laugh, and Arthur winced as the arm tightened around his throat. Blood, old and new, caked his head and knotted his hair. 

"Like I haven't heard that before. I said a good reason shithead."

Joshua suddenly smiled inhumanly wide, teeth exposed and Kieran felt uneasy. His mind reminded him of what happened in that basement, and he couldn't shake the feeling of unease as Joshua opened his mouth to speak again, "How about this instead..."

Joshua shoved the gun even more against Arthur's head, "I blow his brains out and then you can join him in hell after I kill you nice and slow."

Joshua's muscles bunched together like he was about to pull the trigger and Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for that life-ending bullet to kill him. Kieran didn't think he could feel such anger, such burning anger to see Arthur like that. 

Kieran didn't think it was possible for time to still and stop moving entirely, but he believed it at that moment.  Kieran whipped his gun back out and shot blindly.  It was silent for a moment, the ringing shot from Kieran's gun echoing through the tall mountains. 

It was only a moment before Joshua fell, dead, on the ground.  A bullet bore in his skull, blood trickling out in a slow motion.  Kieran released the breath he'd been holding, and Arthur grasped at his neck, coughing and gasping for air. 

And before he had a chance to even process what happened, Arthur burst forwards and wrapped his arms tightly around Kieran's body.  Then it hit him.

He killed Joshua Lake. 

"Holy shit!" Kieran yelped, more excited than surprised. 

"Christ, I thought he killed you." Arthur breathed.  Kieran searched Arthur for wounds, any possible things that could lead to his demise; parting his hair, checking his arms and chest. His fingers came back sticky in blood from the various cuts across his body. 

"Are you okay?!"

Arthur did the same, searching Kieran's body for any evident injuries, and his gloves were cold against Kieran's hair.  He welcomed it with open arms. 

"He didn't hurt you did he?"

Arthur was alive.  Kieran was alive.  They were both alive.   

Their hands met their faces to check for injuries, Arthur's cupping Kieran's cheeks and Kieran's cradling Arthur's.  They paused, all excitement and worry crashing down, gone.  They stared at each other's faces, eyes wide. 

For a moment, Kieran's senses drowned out the surrounding environment, the darkening sky, the returning calls of birds as they realized all danger had passed, the bighorns calling to each other. He found himself lost in the sea of blue-green in Arthur's eyes.  He never realized how beautiful they were until that moment. The golden flecks scattered across his irises, the bluish green colour as though he had the ocean itself caught in them. 

Kieran's smile died when Arthur's eyes flicked to his lips, and for a fleeting moment he thought they were going to kiss. He found himself thinking he'd be okay with that, he'd surrender to his feelings for a brief moment. 

He found himself wanting to stay like that forever, Arthur's hands cupping his face with warm hands, reminding him that this was real and not some crazy dream. 

Kieran felt comforted, elated...until Arthur pulled away softly, slowly, as though it pained him to take his hands away. His skin was cold where Arthur had been holding him.  He found himself missing them. 

Kieran's elation and excitement took a nosedive back to Earth, and he was slammed with reality. He fought the sad 'oh' of disappointment rising in his throat, and instead took a step back, like he had also been contemplating letting go. 

"Reckon we should head back." Arthur said quietly, and before Kieran could say anything to stop him, Arthur hauled Joshua's body up and over his shoulder with a grunt.  The body was limp, not yet entered rigor-mortis, eyes dead, blood dropping to the snow. 

"Y-yeah...we should." Kieran agreed, a little louder then he meant, and he didn't mean to sound so sad about it.  It was obvious the man didn't feel that way about him with the way he retracted from his touch like Kieran was made of lightning.   He just had to accept that.

Arthur arched his eyebrow at the unusually sad tone, but nonetheless turned away and called their horses with a shrill whistle.  He didn't glance back to Kieran to make sure he was still following as they plodded along, nor did he speak to him. 

That stung, and Kieran didn't know why.  He was, after all, used to rejection. 

Buckaroo came running from the distance, Kieran's saddle still sitting on his back, eyes wide and nostrils flared as his feet sunk into the snow. Branwen, still sporting Arthur's saddle, followed right after and whinnied at Kieran, galloping straight towards him even though the stallion was sunk in snow all the way to his belly.  Relief at Branwen escaping the avalanche crashed over him and he felt giddy as the red speckled stallion came nearer.   

"Hey bud. Glad you made it out." He whispered and Branwen snorted, big brown eyes warm and loving. 

Arthur was hauling Joshua through the deep snow towards Buckaroo, the jumpy stallion too scared to come over where the snow was deeper than his knees. 

"Branwen can haul his body there Arthur." Kieran called out.  Arthur stopped and looked to him.

"Figure Branwen can handle two people?" Arthur asked as he came back over, slinging Joshua's body onto Branwen's rump. He tied the body down with the free chords hanging loosely on his saddle.  Kieran nodded, holding the stallions reins. 

"Reckon so." 

Branwen grunted at the sudden dead-weight. Kieran was sure the usually mild stallion was going to start bucking and kicking, but he didn't. Kieran pat his head, a sort of a 'good job' and mounted with practiced ease.  Arthur had waddled his way back over to Buckaroo and calmed the stallion down with hushed whispers and an apple.  He tipped his hat to Kieran when Branwen trudged over. 

"Ready?" 

"As I'll ever be." Kieran casted a glance around the clearing, and sighed, "Think I might miss this place."

He hoped joking would ease the awkwardness of the situation, and he relaxed when Arthur chuckled. 

"Yeah me too." He rumbled, and off they went with a quick spur to their horses' guts. 

As they galloped along the snowy path with the wind whipping in their faces and their horses' hooves filling in the silence, Kieran couldn't believe he got out of the mountain alive considering all he went through. 

Torturing, almost shot, being buried alive. 

Kieran swallowed, holding the reins in a tighter grip. 

Now all he had to do was survive Arthur on the way back.  

\--------------------------

Arthur breathed in deeply, the crisp air stinging his lungs. It was nighttime, wolves howling in the distance, the dark of the night swallowing up everything and coating it black.   

Behind him, Kieran plodded along on Branwen, the stallion keeping good walking pace with Buckaroo.  Lake Isabelle was long gone behind them, along with everything they'd been through for lord knows how long. Arthur's lost track of the days. 

The sky was dark with clouds threatening to spill snow on them. The moon was hidden behind the clouds, and no light peeked through. Arthur considered tenting for the night along the outcropping near Barrow Lagoon to shelter them from the storm. 

His lantern squeaked as it swung in his grasp, waving in the slowly increasing wind speed. A few flakes of snow fell, followed by more and more until it was a torrential snowfall. 

Kieran barely spoke, seemingly back to his meek self but Arthur knew the man was just nervous. He couldn't figure out about what though.   

Buckaroo lifted his feet higher through the deep snow, going down the steady incline leading to Barrow Lagoon. 

He could barely see in front of them, barely see where they were going. The lantern he held in his hand to light the way didn't help at all and probably made things worse by illuminating the snowflakes falling down. 

"We'll camp here." Arthur shouted over the whistling wind, burrowing his face deeper into his coat to keep his face warm. His nose was numb, probably red from the biting cold of wind.   

"Whatever you say mister!" Kieran called back as an answer, voice sounding small against the wind whipping around them.  It sent up snow flurries, and Arthur was surprised Kieran hadn't gotten lost somehow in the storm.  

Arthur pulled Buckaroo into the trees, stopping him by a few boulders that would cover them enough from the snowstorm and animals. He dismounted into the shin deep snow, the wet powder sucking at his legs.

Snow was one thing amongst the thousands he wouldn't miss when they left the Grizzlies behind. 

Kieran got off of Branwen, the stallion breathing hard from carrying the weight of two men for miles. Kieran patted Branwen's neck soothingly. Then, he went over to a sheltered looking spot nestled amongst the trees and began stomping the snow down for a fire. Arthur took Joshua's body off of Branwen and dropped him none to gracefully into the snow. 

It was a routine now; Arthur setting up his tent and starting the fire as Kieran tended to the horses and unsaddled them. He hauled Arthur's saddle over to him and dropped it down before he went back for his own which still sat on top of Buckaroo.  Kieran didn't say a word as he worked. 

The sad little flame Arthur had conjured up was barely keeping his fingers warm, let alone cook a tiny supper for them to munch on. 

_Canned peaches it is._

Arthur dug through his saddlebag and pulled out two cans, leaving the one beside him for Kieran to pick up.  The peaches were frozen right in the can, looking like slop, and there was no way he could dig one out to eat with how numb his fingers were.  He set the can down by the flame and hoped it was hot enough to melt the peaches enough to eat.  

There was a shuffling beside him, and Kieran winced as he put his saddle down, sitting right beside Arthur again.  He took the can from the ground and opened it, staring for a few seconds before he too set it by the small fire they had going. 

The fire was small, flames being blown around by the small gusts of wind that came through. The horses stood in the trees, out of the way of the wind with their hooves cocked and heads dropped out of the wind.  Shivering, Arthur thought briefly on how it was gonna be a cold night's sleep, and then remembered he had to share with Kieran.  Their shared body heat would keep the tent nice and warm.

It was cold, and Kieran was quaking beside him, wrapping his arms around his body in an effort to warm himself up, mitted hands rubbing together as he blew into them with hot breath. It wasn't like the fire was keeping them warm, barely melted the frozen peaches in the cans. 

"Uh...here." Arthur said awkwardly, and he slung an arm around Kieran's shoulders, bringing the man closer into his body.  Kieran stiffened up at the touch, "You'll catch yer death."  

"Surprised I haven't already caught it." Kieran grumbled, leaning into him. Arthur smiled, watching the flame dance around. 

"Me too. Reckon that being buried alive, shot at, tortured for god knows how long ain't good for the health."

Kieran laughed quietly, the sound music to Arthur's ears and he wanted to hear Kieran laugh more. 

"We're justa coupla fools thinkin they could go runnin 'round searchin fer a dangerous man without knownin what to expect."  

And then Arthur felt the hand resting on his, felt the heat of it warming his own cold hand. He didn't pull away, he didn't know why his body told him to stay like that and interlock their fingers together and stay like that in front of the shitty fire barely burning.  He didn't know why, and he wasn't about to question it either.

"Yeah...we're about as bad as John. All action no thinkin." Arthur chuckled, and their fingers intertwined together, "Got so wrapped up in the money and didn't think clearly."

Arthur rubbed Kieran's knuckle before he could stop himself. Kieran didn't seem to mind. 

"Reckon things are gonna start gettin better. No avalanches, no murderous people." Kieran said softly, and then he pulled away from Arthur, "Should close that head wound 'fore it gets worse." 

Arthur stared. He'd forgotten about his bleeding wound, and the ache reminded him how much it hurt. 

"Aw it'll be fine. Had much worse." 

Kieran shook his head and reached for Arthur's saddlebag, rifling through, trying to find something to close the wound off. He came back with a few pieces of small cloth and bandages. 

"Considerin our luck, you'll bleed to death in the middle of the night. I don't need to be wakin up to yer corpse." 

\------------------

Kieran couldn't believe how warm and safe he felt in Arthur's arms. The man was asleep, that was evident enough with how loud he was snoring. It was soothing though, listening to the rumbling of his breathing and the beating of his strong heart. His breath was hot against Kieran's hair, tickling his neck, though he didn't mind . Those muscular arms were wrapped around Kieran's chest, his back flat against Arthur's front. 

Kieran couldn't believe they were cuddling. 

They'd settled down for the night after Arthur wrapped Joshua's body up to avoid it being picked at by birds.  His head was wrapped in clean bandages, blood dotting through, and Kieran had salve on his arms for those burns he received, courtesy of the dead body outside in the snow.  It was goopy, it was gross, it was sticky against his clothes.

Sighing, Kieran wondered if he should at least try to attempt to break away from Arthur's strong grip. 

 _Naw_ He thought, and it surprised him at first. 

Besides, he couldn't let Arthur get cold because of his decision.

So, he stayed in Arthur's arms, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep while Arthur snored like a train right by his ear, their hands intertwined with each other. 

Funny...he didn't remember doing that.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How NSFW, how scandalous that hand holding is ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> Thanks so much for reading! Hope you guys enjoyed :D


	8. That Bounty Looks Heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone! We finally got to 200 kudos, and honestly I didn't think it would happen.  
> Again, thank you to everyone who left a comment and kudos! Those comments really made my day :)

Usually, Arthur woke up alone, cold sometimes, and certainly not this comfortable. He felt safe, warm, soothed, protected.  That never happened.  His eyes cracked open just a tad and black hair filled his vision. It took a little bit to realize it was Kieran, lying next to him with his arms wrapped around Arthur's body, head dipped and forehead resting against Arthur's chest.  He looked peaceful, sleeping soundly with the odd noise escaping from his throat. 

The tent had a warm glow to it, the soft light coming from the morning sun just peeking over the surrounding mountains.  The horses snorted outside, their feet crunching the snow around them.  The tent was nice and warm, and Arthur forgot for a moment they were in the middle of the Grizzlies, notorious for snow and ice and freezing temperatures. 

Kieran shifted, and Arthur glanced down automatically.  Memories of last night around the fire came flooding back; Kieran wrapping his head with clean bandage to keep from infection, their hands entwined with each other, Arthur taking to rubbing salve on Kieran's arms...

Did he regret it?

Before he could answer his own question, Kieran's head rose up.  His eyes seemed confused for a moment when he lifted his head, before they widened in surprise. He slowly untangled his arms from around Arthur and scooted back, a mumbled "Sorry." following soon after. His face was red, a blush, or he was overheating, and Arthur didn't know which one he preferred. Arthur's back and chest were cold from where Kieran had been pressed against, and it felt almost alien to not have Kieran against him.

He didn't know why. 

"Not a problem." He grunted, scrubbing his face tiredly, head and body sore from the previous days.  He doubted he could get up, and was proved wrong when he moved to his knees to undo the flimsy flaps.  The chill of morning air rushed inside the tent, and Arthur shivered as he stepped out into the cold morning.  He tucked his gloved hands into his pockets to keep them warm.

There was a small sigh from Kieran, and Arthur could've sworn it was disappointment, though he didn't dwell on it too long. 

Shaking his head of any straying thoughts, Arthur gathered nearby dry twigs and set them down in the makeshift fireplace they'd made last night. It was completely cold, no dwindling embers like usual, and Arthur had to brush the snow from the firepit. Arthur struck a match against his boot and it took a bit of coaxing for the fire to catch onto the wet wood.   Much like last night the fire was small, barely a flicker in the cool air. 

The peaches he'd eaten last night had still been frozen to the sides of the can, even after sitting by the fire for a few hours.  The thought of food made Arthur's stomach growl painfully.  Two cans of beans placed by the fire, and coffee grinds dumped in the coffee pot would be an acceptable breakfast, Arthur supposed. 

The coffee pot would take a little bit to heat up enough to even make a semi-warm cup of coffee, so Arthur leaned back against his saddle. The leather creaked under the added weight, the leather cold and seeping into his warm clothes.  The sun was out now, shining bright in the blue sky, and it was warm against his face, battling the dwindling cold of the Grizzlies.  It wouldn't be warm that day, but it wouldn't be cold either.    

Kieran joined him outside, eyes squinting against the harsh sun. 

"Can't wait to say goodbye to this place." He grumbled, swiping the snow off his saddle before sitting against it. Arthur dug a couple of cigarettes from his satchel, and stuck one between his lips.  

The taste of tobacco was tangy against his tongue, a welcome taste, something to keep his mind off of his growing affection for Kieran.  Their beer had been frozen solid, so no drinking his feelings away like he'd previously planned. 

"Here." Arthur said, passing a cigar over to Kieran, who took it hesitantly with wandering, nervous eyes. He nodded his thanks when Arthur lit up the cigarette for him, waving the match out and flicking the burnt piece into the snow.  The cigarette tasted chalky, smoky, and it burnt his gloves a sooty black when he lifted his fingers up to grab it. The smoke swirled in the air as he breathed out, mixing with the fire's own, and Arthur watched the flame grow even smaller.  The beans bubbled slightly, and Arthur decided to take them away before the fire died completely and let their food freeze again.

Arthur stomped his cigarette out and raised the cold can to his lips. The beans were frozen against his tongue as he swallowed them down eagerly, the shock of the temperature seeping into his body.  A can of peaches was barely a meal it seemed, the proof of last night.  The cup of coffee warmed his stomach only briefly, and he was thankful for the rush of energy it provided.  He sorely needed it.   

Kieran was quiet, eating in silence, throwing his cigarette to the ground before he dug into his meager meal.  Arthur wished the fire was large enough to cook a few pieces of meat, but there was no way with the size it was now.  Damn snow.

Kieran suddenly threw the can down with a grumbled 'Gonna saddle the horses,'  before he got up and sauntered over to them, trudging through the knee-deep snow with his own saddle in hand.  Arthur was the same way as Kieran, a strong want to get home as soon as possible.  The air was nippy, a chill settling on his bones, and Arthur decided he wasn't going to miss anything the Grizzlies had. He was made for warm, hot days and rain, not freezing cold nights and snowstorms. 

Arthur leaned forwards when Kieran came back for his saddle, Branwen following him around like a lost puppy.  The horse didn't seem to have any qualms about being ridden by Kieran, probably happy that he was riding him instead of Arthur.  Arthur noticed Kieran's lack of spurs, so the horse was used to only gentle nudging, not harsh kicking.

Sighing, Arthur stood, feeling joints and limbs crack and pop from the action.  He moved to take down his tent, a swift kick to the main beam had it toppling down, and folding it was relatively easy.  He rolled their sleeping bags up (Arthur realized they had shared one with a burning face), and packed them on Buckaroo, tying them tightly with the chord hanging freely on his saddle.  He didn't bother to take out the cooker last night, was too tired and the fire was too small to do any real cooking.  One last thing to pack up, Arthur remembered thinking last night.   

"Ready to go?" Kieran asked suddenly, and Arthur turned to see Kieran ready to go, saddlebag sitting on Branwen's saddle, looking a little less full from when they came. The horses stomped the snow for grass, searching with their noses.  Arthur kicked the fire out with the toe of his boot, and walked over to Buckaroo, who nickered for a treat. Arthur hauled Joshua's body up over his shoulder. 

"As I'll ever be." He grumbled tiredly, throwing Joshua's body onto Branwen's rump, "Buckaroo'll carry him when we get to the river."  

The body was stiff from the cold, blood crusted onto his forehead were Kieran had shot him.  An odd sense of pride washed over him, and he allowed it to run its course.

"Hey...Kieran." Arthur started, and Kieran looked to him where he'd been sitting on Branwen. The horse even pricked his ears at Arthur's voice, nose twitching. 

"Just...wanted to say good job." Arthur's voice cracked, face burning in embarrassment. Kieran's face slowly broke out into a giant grin, and Arthur's heart swelled.

"Thank you." He said, and he actually sounded happy, giddy.  Kieran's eyes crinkled when he smiled, eyes beautiful, smile even more so.  Arthur found himself okay with watching Kieran for more than a few seconds.  Branwen snorted, stamping his hoof, and Arthur snapped out of his daze.

"Y-You're welcome." Arthur pulled himself into Buckaroo's saddle, face still burning. 

He didn't even bother to think about what kind of moment that was; he already knew. But did he accept it?

A pat to the horse's neck and they were off galloping down the snowy path, kicking powder up with their heels.  The wind felt nice against his overheated face, though only served to dry the blood against his bandage.  His head ached from both pain and cold, and he pulled his hat down further over his forehead to keep warm.

Chilling, biting, it turned his face numb as they sped through the snowy plains. The snow was deep, obviously topped with fresh snow from last night. Arthur glanced nervously to the surrounding mountains, which grew closer and closer as they went along, shuddering at the thought of another avalanche starting up. 

They might not get lucky a second time.

Branwen snorted and huffed behind Buckaroo, keeping an easy pace with the much longer-legged horse. 

The snow slowly started to become more scarce, the brown grass trapped underneath said snow peeking through. The pine trees Arthur had grown accustomed too morphed into bushy, leafy green evergreens, birds nestled in between the branches to keep warm. 

The place where the trees looked burnt at the tips sped past and that's when Arthur slowed Buckaroo down to a walk. The horse arched his neck, sweat beginning to form on his face. The path widened enough so two riders could ride side-by-side. Arthur guessed Kieran saw his chance as he kicked Branwen up beside Arthur. Kieran cleared his throat. 

"What do you reckon you'll do after this?" Kieran spoke like he was unsure of his own words, like he was right back to the days when he worried constantly if Arthur would blow up when he spoken to. 

That didn't sit well with Arthur. 

"Not bounty hunting that's for sure." Arthur chuckled, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm, "Probably crack open a beer, sit down, and stay there fer a few days."

Kieran smiled.

"That so?"

"Mhmm. You?" Arthur cocked his head slightly at Kieran's shocked expression. 

"Well..." Kieran trailed off, scratching at his cheek, "Probably go back to doin chores. Really the only thing I'm good at." He gave a small smile and looked down to the saddle horn between his legs.  

The rushing of a river came from ahead, the soft bubbling of water cascading over rocks, familiar sounds. The Dakota River, Arthur mused.  He could see a small part of the rushing river as the traveled along the path that cut through the mountain. It declined slightly, passing under a train bridge. 

"Naw...You're good at other things I'm sure."

"Try tellin that to yer gang.  Them fellers only seem to think I'm good fer being the chore mule." Kieran grumbled, and he pat Branwen's neck, "Not that I mind, I enjoy them horses, but..."

"You want recognition?" Arthur prompted. Kieran looked up to him, eyes sparkling with relief.

"Yeah. That. Just gettin sick of being treated like a damn O'Driscoll." Kieran's gaze snapped to him, suddenly hopeful, "Reckon Dutch'll trust me after this?"

Arthur laughed, short, booming, echoing off the train bridge they just passed under.  Birds spooked at the sudden noise, wings flapping, and Arthur sighed. 

"Don't think so kid."

Kieran frowned, face reddening, and this time Arthur couldn't blame it on the cold.  It was getting warmer, hot even, and he let go of Buckaroo's reigns to shrug his heavy winter jacket off. 

"I've proven myself multiple times already, saved your life _three_ times now-"

"Weren't it two?"

"No, I saved your ass from flying off that mountain remember?" Kieran argued, flustered, and Arthur swallowed down the laughter building in his throat.

" _Three_ times." Kieran's voice dropped and he grumbled "Reckon you an' Dutch should appreciate that."

The river came into view, the water rushing and foaming. The path hugged the side of the water, cliffsides on either side and path narrowing just a tad. 

"You're right Kieran...guess I should thank you for saving my life." 

"Saving your life three times."

"You ain't gonna let this go are you?" Arthur couldn't help the humour that seeped into his voice. God, Kieran was going to be insufferable now. It was bad enough Kieran mentioned him saving Arthur's life every time Arthur spoke to him. It'd be worse now that Kieran could say he saved Arthur's life three times. 

The path crossed through the river, the water reaching their horses' knees.  Buckaroo splashed, feet sinking in with soft deep thunks, sending droplets of water flying into the air.  Branwen stepped noisily, tossing his head when water splashed up onto his face from Buckaroo's heavy stepping. Kieran watched the water swirl around their horses' hooves.  It reflected off he water beautifully, an assortment of colours, and a flicker of a bright red tail caught the corner of Arthur's eye.

"Reckon that was a salmon." Arthur said under his breath.  He'd have to mark this place in his journal as a potentially good salmon spot. Kieran suddenly looked to him, maybe surprised Arthur knew what type of fish that was. 

"You ever been fishing?" 

They were on the other side of the river now, the riverbank dried and cracked.  The horses' hooves tore up the cracked dirt and dust went swirling into the air, their wet feet becoming caked in it.  Buckaroo plodded to the path running alongside the river and snorted at the dust.

The path split in two up ahead, one inclining upwards to a few outcroppings of rocks, and the other going straight and following the river. 

"Went fishin with Jack a little while ago." Arthur scratched his chin, "Other than that, I ain't been. Not really good at it."

Kieran blushed a little, and the small smile returned with a bit more bashfulness.

"Y-you wanna go sometime? With me?"

Kieran obviously panicked at Arthur's 'really?' look and he fumbled for words.

"J-just down by the river! N-not too far, and y-you'll be watching me like a hawk I'm sure-"

"Calm down Kieran!" Arthur said, and Kieran shut his mouth, eyes watching him nervously. Arthur smiled, "'Course I'll go with you. Believe it or not, I enjoy the company you keep. I guess I had too considerin I spent god knows how long with you trapped in those mountains." 

"So you forced yourself to like-" 

"Well well well, lookit that boys! That's Joshua Lake!"

Arthur snapped his head away from Kieran towards the road ahead of them.  Just at the fork in the road were four men on horseback, their hands filled with shotguns and rifles, all watching them approach. They blocked both paths with their horses, and Arthur was forced to stop Buckaroo, putting a hand out for Kieran to stop as well.  Kieran tensed, a nervous flick of the eyes to Arthur, before Arthur saw his hand rest on his pistol grip. 

They were bounty hunters, it seemed, and one even had Joshua's wanted poster sticking out of his saddlebag. Arthur eyed them up. 

One of them had a moustache, laughable really, and a large brown trenchcoat. The others all wore large hats obscuring their eyes from view, all wearing nasty grins on their weatherworn faces. 

"Reckon this is him." Arthur said, shoulders lax, though his arms tense to grab his pistol in case the men attacked.  Buckaroo sensed his nerves and pranced, nostrils flaring and ears slicked back angrily, "What's it to ya?"

The men chuckled to one another, and the middle one with the moustache spoke in a gruff, gnarled voice, "Think it might be a little too heavy for you fellers."

The moustached man brushed his coat aside all nonchalant like, a warning, to reveal a silver revolver resting in it's holder. 

"Why don't me and my friends here take it off yer hands?" Moustache grinned, eyes sparkling like he could already taste the reward. 

Much like the mountains, Kieran was the first to speak, though his voice was strong and aggressive, not shaky and nervous. Somehow, pride filled Arthur again for the second time that day. 

"Not in your life mister. We almost lost our lives retrieving him." 

Arthur saw Kieran touch his arms briefly, right where his burn scars were. 

The moustached man shook his head, smile adorning his face, and he pulled his revolver out slowly, brandishing his fingers across the barrel like a lover.  Arthur's heart dropped when he aimed it right at Kieran's chest.

"Too bad."

Arthur threw his pistol out and fired. He should've stopped to think about the situation, maybe even should've thrown himself off Buckaroo to take the bullet for Kieran, but he didn't.

Arthur hit the leader right in between the eyes, blood spraying out like falling rubies.  His body stilled, eyes widening comically, and his ment watched, jaws dropped as the body fell off the horse with a thud. 

It was quiet, before everything lit into chaos like a fuse on dynamite. 

Arthur dug his heels into Buckaroo's ribs and the stallion reared up at the feeling, and Arthur realized this was a bad time to stall in the middle of a potential gunfight.

Kieran had already kicked Branwen into a fast gallop, and the horse squeezed in between two of the bounty hunters. The men were knocked off balance, hands flying to grab their saddle horns to right themselves back up.  By the time they had sat back down securely, Branwen was flying down the path with tail held high, already gaining speed and losing them. 

Buckaroo decided right then he was going to follow the speckled stallion and flung himself forwards, galloping with thudding hooves. Instead of throwing himself bravely in between the bounty hunters, he opted to spook around the three bounty hunters who'd just realized they should be shooting. 

Bullets whizzed by alarmingly close to his body, hitting the ground ahead of them with _thunks_.

Arthur couldn't believe how bad of shots they were.  He would've laughed if not for the situation. 

Buckaroo whinnied in panic when a bullet came a little close to hitting the stallion's ear, and pumped his legs faster, a blur beneath him.  The bounty hunters shouted at Arthur, and they whipped their horses to catch up, the crack of their leather reigns hitting their horses' flesh snapping through the tense air. 

"He's getting away!" One shouted angrily. 

The stallion, it seemed, was fast when he was scared. Good thing too, Arthur didn't have very many bullets to spare.  

Arthur threw a glance back. They were slowly getting smaller, smaller, until they were too far away to get an accurate shot at him. Arthur saw them throw their guns into their holsters and kicked their horses harder. 

"Thatta boy!" Arthur whooped, patting the sweaty stallion's neck.  Buckaroo whinnied in response, breathing hard.

Arthur heard them shooting again, guns popping over the roaring of the wind against Arthur's ears. He looked back to see if they'd caught up at all. 

Then, galloping down a hill and skidding to a stop, was the third man who'd been with the group, face angry and twisted, gun aimed for Arthur. He must've broken from the group to cut Arthur off.  

Arthur shot the man right when he fired.  He heard the telltale sound of a bullet hitting flesh, and his nerves felt elated. The man had missed.  He dropped dead, and his horse, a blue roan with sky bright eyes, whinnied in panic, bucking his body right off and into the dirt with a _whump_. 

Arthur heard Buckaroo's breath stuttering, and for a moment, he thought the stallion was just tired. It was reasonable, the stallion had been keeping a fast pace for awhile.  

That's when Buckaroo crashed to his knees, dirt and gravel spraying up from the impact of his weight against the ground. Arthur barely had time to react and stop himself from hitting the ground as hard as he did. He didn't expect it, arms digging into the sharp gravel, tumbling head over heels.  Arthur didn't make a sound, didn't have time. The rocks tore at his clothes, and he felt fresh blood pouring down his arms. 

His body stopped tumbling around like a rag doll, and he took a stuttering breath in, calming his thudding heart. 

Fresh pain shot down from Arthur's head, though he felt no blood. He must've knocked it against the ground a few good times. 

Blue sky met his vision when he cracked open his eyes, and he groaned in pain, body aching and complaining as he sat up slowly, deliberately trying to stave the aching headache assaulting his skull. Arthur waved the dust away from his nose, coughing, throat prickling at the particles. The dust cleared slowly, and a sickening feeling crashed down on him when he heard a horse trumpet, shaky and filled with pain. 

Buckaroo lay on his side, breathing hard, blood pouring from his chest, a perfect circle from a single bullet square in the middle of the powerful horses' chest.   Dread filled him, and Arthur scrambled onto his complaining knees, and crawled hurriedly over to the panicking stallions side. 

Buckaroo squealed in pain, wide brown eyes showing white, nostrils flaring as he struggled to breath.

Galloping hooves approached fast, and Arthur raised his head to see the last two bounty hunters. 

"We got 'im!" One shouted gleefully, and the man raised his gun to fire.

Rage filled Arthur, filled every crevice, and he raised his gun. 

They both fell within a matter of seconds, swaggering in their seats before hitting the ground, horses running away with tails raised high.   

Buckaroo whinnied weakly, legs scrambling in the dirt, struggling to find purchase.  Arthur kneeled down slowly, hoping to not panic the horse anymore than he was, and he scooped Buckaroo's head up in his arms.  The horse leaned into his touch, breathing slowing down just a little bit.  He stopped panicking, stopped his weak struggling, and laid into Arthur, eyes closing as though he was about to fall asleep. 

"Easy bud." Arthur soothed, and his eyes started to burn as the horse nickered at him softly, "It's gonna be okay."

Arthur's heart was heavy in his chest, tightening like he was going to break down crying right in the middle of a gravel road surrounded by bodies. He barely heard the hooves approaching through the thick fog settling down on his body, nor did he hear the soft gasp.

"Oh god Arthur." Kieran's voice broke through the fog, barely a whisper but still just as loud as a shout.  There was a heavy thud as the man dismounted, and a warmth appeared on his shoulder.  Kieran was silent as he crouched down, feet crunching the small rocks and pieces of gravel.

Buckaroo's chest stopped moving, and the stallion went still, a final wheeze escaping his lips.  Arthur's hands laid Buckaroo's head down numbly, gently, into the dirt.

Arthur felt worse knowing he couldn't bury the horse right away. He'd have to leave Buckaroo right in the middle of the path, let him slowly decompose. 

The horse didn't deserve that. 

Slowly, Arthur got up, Kieran's hand sliding off his shoulder.  Arthur wiped the few tears away before Kieran could see and sighed, broken, defeated.

"Let's go." Arthur mumbled.  Arthur began undoing his saddle from Buckaroo's body, sliding it out from under the horse and hauling it up in trembling arms.  Kieran watched him with sorry eyes, and an unshed shine of tears were threatening to spill over.

"He was a good horse Arthur." Kieran said sympathetically as he straightened, voice low and sorry.  Arthur slung the front synch over the saddle to keep from dragging, and Arthur sighed. He casted a glance back to the stallion. 

"Yeah...he was." Arthur began walking down the path, saddle in hand. Kieran got on Branwen, the horse staring at Buckaroo as though he'd magically get back up.

"You could always take one of the bounty hunter's horses." Arthur heard Kieran suggest. Arthur turned on his heel to see Kieran's eyes widen in panic, and Kieran was quick to say, "Not that it would replace Buckaroo or anything." 

Arthur looked to the dead horse and dropped his saddle. The dust flew up from under it when it hit the ground, metal jingling.

"Better than walking." Arthur sighed, "Wait here, I'll be back."

Kieran nodded, and he reached down to par at Branwen's neck. 

Arthr started walked to where he'd seen the blue roan take off too, the horse's hooves carving a path in the shrubs and dirt. Branches broken, grass trampled, bush flattened led him to the blue roan. It chomped absentmindedly at a bush full of pink flowers and raised its head as Arthur approached slowly as to not spook the beast. It eyed him with it's blue eyes, ears pricked, nostrils flaring. 

"Pretty, aintcha?" Arthur watched the horse rear up slightly, irritated. It stamped its feet, a sort of angry chuffing sound coming from it.   _It_ was a mare.

"Easy, I wont hurt you." Arthur stepped lightly, and the mare peeled her lips back, baring her teeth in a warning. He stopped and so did she.

He got close enough to grab her reigns. That's when she bit at him, tearing a chunk out of his shirt.

"Hey!" Arthur shouted, and the mare spat out his shirt with a huff. 

Her ears slicked back, eyes shining and taunting him. 

 _Just try and reach again,_ She seemed to say. Arthur rubbed his arm where she'd bit him and sighed. 

"Alright, see you wanna do this the hard way." 

Arthur made sure his movements were slower this time. She watched him, body tensing as he got closer. When his fingers wrapped mare's reigns gently, she calmed down.

She was no longer tense and ready to bite and kick and fight. Her whole mood changed like a light. Arthur pat her neck gently.

"There girl. That wasn't so hard huh?"

She flared her nostrils to take in his scent, and she must have decided he was okay when he fed her an apple he'd been saving for Buckaroo. 

It hurt, felt like he was betraying someone, but at the same time it felt right. 

Bittersweet. 

Arthur sighed again, letting his hand slid off her smooth neck, and he clicked his tongue. Her ears flicked at the noise, though she did not reach to bite him again. The mare followed him obediently out of the bush to where Kieran was waiting, her ears pricked, and neck bent in a pretty arch. 

The mare seemed to be showing herself off. 

"She's pretty." Kieran said as Arthur undid her saddle.  It fell to the side with a heavy thud, and he hauled his own saddle onto her back.  She didn't move a muscle, not even when he tightened the synch to prevent the saddle from falling. She just kept an ear on him, listening to him working. 

"Calm too." Arthur quipped. 

The saddle fit securely and Arthur's breath stilled.

Now came the fun part.

He grabbed the saddle horn and stuck his foot in the stirrup, keeping a close eye on her body to see if she'd buck. When she didn't tense, he hauled himself up and sat down. The mare tipped her head to the side to watch him as he got a secure seat.

Arthur was surprised, and relieved, when she didn't buck him off into the dirt.

Arthur saw Kieran watching as he leaned down, sugar cube resting in his hand. 

"Good girl." Arthur praised, and the mare swished her tail. 

"Ready to go?" Arthur asked Kieran, who shrugged and looked to the surrounding landscape. 

"Dunno. Might get attacked again." 

Arthur laughed quietly. 

"Yeah who knows? Maybe more fierce bounty hunters." 

Kieran's laugh cheered him up, took his mind off of what happened to Buckaroo. Arthur clucked his tongue and the mare walked along the path, gait smooth and head level with her shoulders. Calm. 

Arthur kept expecting her to tense up and throw him into the river down below, but she never did. 

The mare was definitely shorter than Buckaroo, legs not as long, though she was lean and meant for running.  Arthur wanted to feel her run, see how smooth, how fast she was, but he opted to wait until they were back at camp to test her. 

The mare seemed reliable enough, though had fiery spirit and a fierce personality. 

Arthur already liked her. 

Arthur would run her, ride her yes...if they survived that long.  It seemed like everyone wanted to kill them. Arthur looked to Joshua's body still slung across Branwen's rump.  Joshua, officially, was bad luck.

"Thought of a name for her?" Kieran asked suddenly.  Arthur stared like a startled deer for a few seconds before he looked down at the mare between his legs.

"Dunno."

Kieran stayed silent for a moment before he spoke again.

"How about Blue?"

Arthur chuckled.

"Little unoriginal?"

"Better than Stupid or Mare."

Blue. It was fitting for both the colour of her fur and unique eyes. 

"Fair enough." Arthur chuckled, and he pat the mare's neck fondly.  She stretched her neck out at the touch, and nickered. Arthur smiled, "Blue it is."

\-----------------------------------

"Holy shit you actually did it." The Sheriff breathed, obviously astounded when Arthur dropped the body onto the office's floor.  Arthur cut the makeshift body bag he'd made to reveal Joshua's bloodied, pale face.

"Told you I'd have his body at your office." Arthur said, straightening and sheathing his knife.  The Sheriff got up from his chair, peered at the body before he held his hand out. Arthur took it in a strong grip. 

"Congrats mister." The Sheriff's eyes narrowed and he saw the bandage peeking out from under Arthur's hat, "Can't believe you got out alive."

"Barely." Arthur released the Sheriff's hand, rubbing at his recently bandaged arms.  The doctor in Valentine wrapped his bloodied arms up for five dollars, mumbling about how many pieces of gravel he'd found stuck under his skin. A few minutes later, they were off to the Sheriff's office next door.  Kieran had decided to stay outside with the horses, keep an eye on them, and he waited for Arthur to come back with their reward. 

"Put up a fight." Arthur said, casting a glance to the body at their feet.  The Sheriff sauntered back over to his desk and opened a drawer. 

"Well, you got him here, just like you said." The Sheriff held out a giant wad of cash, "Here's the 400$." 

Arthur took it, mind processing that they actually got the money, that they actually stayed alive. The cash was almost heavy in his hands, a reminder of what they'd lost, and he slipped it into his satchel.

"Thank you mister." Arthur walked towards the door, handle twisting as he opened it. 

"Anytime you want to go bounty hunting again, let me know," The Sheriff sat down and propped his feet on the desk with a tired sigh, "I got plenty more where that came from."

Arthur tipped his hat and exited the building, the door creaky and old.  The streets were busier, horses walking back and forth, carriages carrying people entering and exiting town with what Valentine considered fancy people. Mostly though, everyone made their way to the already packed saloon down the street.  Kieran looked up at the sound of the old door closing. 

"Got the money?"

Arthur held it up as proof.

"'Course." Arthur flipped through the wad and pulled out 100$ for Kieran to take.

100$ was fair. 200$ would go to the camp for supplies, and Arthur could sit comfortable with his own 100$ share.

"Here's your share." 

" _My_ share?" Kieran parroted in disbelief, eyeing the expensive amount of cash Arthur was waving around carelessly.

"'Course Kieran.  Jesus Christ, you were the one who killed him."

Kieran still didn't move, and Arthur was forced to grab his hand and slap the cash onto it.

"Just take the money. You earned it."

Kieran stared at it for a few seconds before sliding it into his pocket, smile returning slowly.

"Thanks Arthur." Kieran glanced around town and asked, "Reckon we should go home?"

Arthur opened his mouth, but his voice was stolen away from the sound of booming laughter coming from the saloon.  They both looked over to the light-filled building with shadows moving around inside.  Glasses clinking, people shouting, the saloon looked inviting and warm.

Arthur turned back to Kieran, and shrugged. 

"Hear the saloon's got pretty good booze." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited based on Hakamorra's (did I spell that right?) suggestions. Thank you so much for pointing that out for me! Hope this suffices :)


	9. Drunken Rambles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drunk Arthur is best Arthur don't @ me

The bar was unusually busy that night, with customers going to and fro from the bar counter with drinks in their hands, or the occasional shouting of a man trying to get a lady's attention, with their tightly fit corsets pushing their breasts up, making themselves more appealing.  The wood of the saloon door was rough and cold against his hand as he pushed it open. The air smelled of booze and people, and beside them, the poker table was packed with men trying to win money for more alcohol or a night with the working lady's. 

Arthur shouldered through the crowd, hoping he carved a path big enough for scrawny Kieran to follow him to the bar.  It wasn't as busy as he thought it would be over there; maybe a few men leaning against it with beers in their hand, talking with each other, faces flushed from alcohol.  The bartender, a tall gangly fellow with a moustache for the ages, was cleaning a glass when they approached and he looked up with a friendly smile on his face. 

"What'll it be boys?" He asked as both of them rested against the bar.  Arthur slid a few coins onto the counter.

"Two rounds of shots, please. Make 'em strong."

The bartender swiped the money off into his hand and into his apron pocket, and he went to prepare their drinks.  Kieran stared at Arthur, wide eyed and slack jawed.

"I coulda paid for my own."

Arthur waved a hand at Kieran, and shrugged slightly.

"It's fine, don't mind buying drinks for a friend."

_Friend._

Were they friends? Arthur supposed after spending over three days in the freezing cold mountains with someone could make them your friend.  Well, more like _force_ them to like you.  A small voice in the very back of his head hissed _Could be more if you grew a set and faced the music_  and he struggled to ignore it. 

Did cuddling and hand holding count as a _friend_ thing to do?  Arthur knew the answer. He opted against answering the question fully and instead watched the bartender pour various tiny amounts of liquids into a few small glasses, and waited desperately for the alcohol to come.  He could drown both his sorrows and his feelings and that blasted voice inside his head that kept speaking nonsense to him. 

Maybe he could forget everything that happened on the mountain.  Did he want too? Did he _really_ want to? A small part of him said, _Yes, forget this ever happened_ but another, much larger part of Arthur whispered _No, this is good, a chance at real love, that's what you've always wanted right?_

"And..." Arthur cleared his throat, ignoring the voices in his head, "Consider it a thank you for...y'know saving my life."

Kieran opened his mouth, and Arthur rushed to say "Saving my life _three_ times," and Kieran smiled, obviously satisfied.

"Just think of how much shit you'd be in if I hadn't come." Kieran said proudly, almost like one of those peacocks Arthur had seen strutting it's stuff to onlookers. The bird had arched it's neck, eyeing the people watching with gusto before it had spread it's dazzling feathers with a sly shake of its tail.  Head high, eyes bright with intelligence, shoulders set forwards with confidence, Arthur thought Kieran and the peacock were very similar.  Of course, one was a bird and the other human, but the way they held themselves was about the same. 

Plus, Kieran was just as beautiful as one.    

 _Excuse me_.  

"I'd probably would've gotten someone else to come." Arthur snorted at Kieran's frowny, indignant face. Kieran pouted at the bar counter, tracing invisible circles with his fingers. The way he acted was like a small child who'd just been told no.  Arthur's face broke out in a grin, and he patted Kieran's shoulder in sympathy. 

"I'm kiddin of course. Reckon I woulda forced you to come."

"You kinda did." Kieran reminded, and Arthur remembered he actually _did_ force Kieran to come.  All because he didn't want to take Micah along.  God, Micah would've let him fly off that mountain, probably would've let him die.  Micah would've come back to camp with excuses locked and loaded.

_He slipped boss, didn't have time to react._

_He got shot before Arthur even noticed they were there._

_Didn't realize he was gone._

Kieran probably didn't let him die for fear of coming back to camp without him and being blamed for his death.  Arthur didn't blame him at all for fearing that; it looks bad when you're the camp ex-O'Driscoll and go bounty hunting in a secluded place, and come back by yourself.  Arthur knew Dutch would probably kill Kieran if that had happened. 

"It was either you or Micah, and I think I like you more than him."

"That so?"

Arthur nodded, leaning against his elbows on the smooth counter surface, legs lax underneath him.  Kieran mirrored his position, either by choice or subconsciously, Arthur didn't know. 

"Yep. Me and him ain't exactly on the best of terms after Strawberry."

"I remember you talkin 'bout that to Dutch." Kieran sighed, eyes glazed over at the memory.  There'd been shouting, curse words, spitting insults hurled at Micah, before Arthur stalked away with an unseen storm cloud raging above his head from anger. Arthur saw Kieran shudder.

"You wouldn't talk to anyone fer days after that."

Arthur rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, almost forgetting he did indeed ignore a portion of the camp to wallow in his own frustration over Micah.  He only muttered a few tense words to Hosea and that was it.

"Micah can be frustratin. You're definitely better with a gun then him." Arthur complimented, and he wasn't expecting the raging blush that stormed across Kieran's face, making his freckles stand out and beard pop.  Kieran turned his gaze away; Arthur supposed he was hiding the blush. 

Was it anger?

Arthur sure hoped not, and he wondered how a compliment as nice as that would make anyone angry.  That didn't make sense. 

"You alright there Kieran?" Arthur asked before he could close his mouth and go back to watching the bartender work, or go back to listening into the raging conversations at the bar.  He _really_ hated his mouth. 

Kieran only blushed harder when he turned back to face Arthur. He opened his mouth like he was wanting to say something, and the bartender put the tray full of glass shots down in front of them with a _clink_.  Kieran's voice was stolen away, and he watched the bartender work silently.   

"Here you are." The bartender said, the glasses clinking against the wood as he took them off one by one.  Arthur took his with a nod of thanks, and Kieran abandoned what he was going to say and opted to grab one of his own instead. 

The bartender went over to quench other patron's thirst, and he left the two men with their thoughts. 

"I'm...fine Arthur." Kieran said slowly, almost as if he was trying to convince himself he was fine. He raised a glass to his lips, though he didn't take a sip and set it back down almost forcefully.  Arthur spent long enough with Kieran to know he was lying blatantly through his teeth and expected Arthur to believe him.

Arthur felt insulted almost. 

"No. You ain't fine."

Kieran busied himself with eyes casted downwards to the glasses, picking at his hands.  His burn scars were peeking through from under his sleeves which had been rolled back slightly when he reached for the glass. Those angry scars were bright against his skin, a painful reminder of what had happened in the mountains. 

"Just...scared you might go back to ignoring me when we get back to camp..." Kieran said softly, and Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing.  Kieran turned to face Arthur fully though his eyes looked everywhere _but_ Arthur. They stared at the smooth countertop, just in front of Arthur's hands, "That when you said you'd go fishin with me you were just lyin."

Arthur knew his face was like stone at that moment, hard to read and almost emotionless.  His brain struggled to comprehend what Kieran was saying. Then it clicked.  Kieran was worried that their little 'bounty hunting' trip was almost meaningless, that Arthur wouldn't see him differently even after Kieran saved his life more than once during the trip.  That Arthur wouldn't see him anymore then he had before they went, that Kieran was only a useless O'Driscoll. 

"Kieran, you know me by now." Arthur chuckled slightly,  "If I didn't wanna go fishin with you, I woulda told you."

Kieran's face instantly went from disappointment and _oh so much despair_ to gleefulness and excitement only a child could achieve.  It was cute how much that meant to Kieran, how one simple 'yes' could change Kieran's mood and perspective.  How it meant the whole world to him.

Arthur raised the cool glass of whiskey to his lips, trapped between wanting to drown his feelings and wanting them to run its course.  The shock of whiskey stung his cracked lips from the winter days he'd spent in the Grizzlies.  It was much stronger than the cheap beer he'd brought with them, definitely had a lot more kick. It tingled his stomach, his chest and he cleared his throat to try and stave it. 

Kieran coughed wetly at his, and Arthur could only imagine the burning sensation curling in his chest. 

"That's strong." Kieran croaked, face pinching in a sour way. 

"Deserve some strong shit after what we went through." Arthur laughed, and grabbed another glass, swirling the strong alcohol around.  Kieran smiled, face slightly flush from the small amount of alcohol he'd swallowed, and Arthur didn't know if he was drunk already because boy did he think that smile was positively _dazzling_. 

The other shot went down smoothly, and this time, Arthur felt something tingle in the back of his head, a feeling of sluggishness seeping through his body ever so slowly.  It felt nice, warm, and Arthur knew he wasn't that drunk yet. 

Kieran's face was a rosy red now. Every time he spoke, his voice was a little louder then usual, a little more confident, a little more comfortable.  He leaned more heavily against the bar counter, giggling when Arthur spoke about past gang antics. 

When Sean got hit in the face by an old woman.

When Javier got caught stealing chickens.

Arthur should've watched how much he spilled to Kieran, but he trusted him.  Kieran was one of them after all.  He was part of the gang, useful now that he could handle a gun correctly.  Arthur could only hope Dutch saw it the same way as he did.

Arthur knew Kieran would be praised if he donated to the camp, and maybe people would see the man more differently if they saw his name in the ledger. 

Arthur sure hoped so. 

Kieran deserved to be treated better; it wasn't like he was evil, out to kill them all in their sleep.  If that was his intention, Kieran would have killed Arthur in the mountains.  It was perfect up there, isolated, and Kieran could have ran away towards freedom.  But he didn't. 

Kieran spoke more about his past life as the night went on, voice barely heard over the ringing of the piano music and patron's laughter. 

"I was Kieran Duffy...well, I guess I still am." Kieran snorted, and Arthur couldn't help but join in.

Kieran was opening up slowly, more and more, talking about his past gang before the O'Driscolls killed them all, before when he joined the army, when he still lived in Ireland. 

Kieran talked about how his mother taught him how to braid hair, how to cook, clean, all the feminine things a daughter usually learned.  Arthur realized Kieran was only child, called him a 'sissy' and Kieran laughed so hard he snorted.  Arthur, drunk at this point, laughed along with him, booming and loud and very obnoxious.    

Those multiple shots were doing a number to his body, his head was foggy, fuzzy and thick, body slowly sagging against the bar in relaxation.  

The more Kieran talked and the more he revealed to Arthur, the more Arthur realized the drinks were doing the exact opposite of what he wanted them to do.  It increased his feelings ten-fold, increased them to the point where Arthur started thinking about Kieran in less than appropriate ways.  It was shocking to say the least, and Arthur should've felt disgusted with himself, but he didn't and that's what scared him.

Kieran lifted the last glass to his lips and downed it with relative ease, this time no coughing or wheezing was heard. 

Behind Arthur, the building was beginning to let up, more patrons leaving the saloon to get some sleep.  It was quieter now, the piano music ceasing its playing as the pianist decided it was late enough to turn in.  The bartender was cleaning the bar beside them, and Kieran was flushed heavily in the face.

Proper drunk.

Arthur, after feeling faint for a brief moment, pushed off the counter slowly. His vision swayed along with his body, and the memory of what had happened with Lenny in the saloon resurfaced.  He grimaced.

Didn't want to end up in jail again. 

"I'm gonna turn in." Arthur slurred.  His feet stumbled over each other as he stepped away towards the swinging doors.  Kieran followed him closely behind, drunk smile peeled across his face. The saloon door creaked as Arthur pushed it open, the cool night air sweeping over his body, though only served to make him feel more sluggish and exhausted. 

The air was heavy with the promise of rain, clouds beginning to darken the sky and slowly blocking out the moon.  The streets were muddy and slopped under passerby's feet.  In the distance, thunder rumbled, the wind beginning to pick up slightly. 

The hotel looked relatively empty from the outside, there were few horses hitched outside to the posts, tails swishing at pesky flies.  The light from inside the building was warm and inviting, and the buzz of alcohol only served to make Arthur more tired.  Kieran was right behind him, slopping through the mud.  Arthur stomped up the hotel stairs, using the guardrail mostly to keep himself balanced, the old creaky porch stairs cracking with every step. 

The hotel itself was warm when Arthur shoved the door open, harder then he wanted, practically falling into the squeaky door. Kieran laughed at him, using Arthur's shoulder to barely keep himself upright. Arthur almost fell on the way in, and they both burst out laughing at how stupid they must've looked. 

They were a couple of drunks that could barely see, let alone stand up straight. 

"Oh! It's you." The hotel manager greeted, surprised, and he gestured to the small menu sitting on the desk, "What do you need mister?"

"Two rooms please." Arthur chuckled, already digging in his satchel for a dollar.  The hotel manager scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"Sorry sir, we only have one room available."

Arthur's hand stilled in placing the money on the counter.  Instinctively, he looked to Kieran and they made eye contact, searching each other for a reaction. Arthur expected maybe a form of anger, irritation, disapointment maybe, but there was nothing.  Either Arthur was too drunk, or he really didn't care anymore because he nodded, sliding the money to the manager.

"That's alright."

The hotel manager seemed to relax at his words. The man took the money and swiped it into a drawer. 

"Room's up the stairs to your left. Here's the key." The manager reached down for a moment before he came back up with a key in hand.

"Thanks mister." Kieran drunkenly said, sounding happy and giddy.  Arthur grabbed the key from the manager and started up the stairs.  They were creaky and old, much like the rest of the building and they cracked every time Arthur stepped down.  The wood was old, chipping off in splinters from years of being treaded on. 

It was quiet when they reached the top, mostly everyone asleep in their respective rooms. The only sound was Arthur and Kieran barely walking straight down the hall. Kieran stumbled into a wall, giggling and swiping hair from his face. 

"Sharing a bed, huh? Thought we was done sharing after we came here."

A small part of Arthur felt a little hurt by that, and another part was grateful the hotel only had one room.  The alcohol made him feel braver, more courageous. 

They reached their room without any incident, nor did they stumble into walls or room doors by accident.  Arthur pulled the key out of his pocket, and it took a few tries to stick the metal into the keyhole.  The wobbliness of his vision didn't help. 

With a click the door unlocked, the door cracking and squealing as Arthur swung it open.  Inside was quaint, a small bed in the corner with a wardrobe at the foot of it, a nightstand near the head.  The room was lit with a gentle warm glow from the nearby lantern, a sliver of waning moonlight peeking through the tiny window on the wall opposite of the bed.  The soft pattering of rain on the roof coupled with the soft thunder made it nice, cozy even.  Arthur wanted nothing more then to sink into the mattress and fall asleep. 

"So who gets the floor?" Kieran asked out of the blue.  Arthur looked blankly at him, almost forgetting that he indeed had to share the bed. 

"What?"

Kieran swallowed and stuck his hands in his pockets almost sheepishly. 

"W-Well...considerin we don't have to _share_ now...I thought that maybe you wouldn't want to sleep in the same bed..."

Arthur watched Kieran closely, his eyes wide and heart pounding against his ribcage with such a strong force, he was sure his ribs would break.  

He didn't want that.  He wanted to share the bed with Kieran, hold him close. 

Arthur wasn't so sure it was the alcohol making him feel that way anymore.  The buzz of the whiskey he'd drank that night surged through his veins, giving him a confidence he wasn't so sure he would've had sober.

"Kieran..." Arthur began and he licked his lips nervously.  Kieran looked to him, watched him with a critical eye, body tense. 

_Tell him._

_It's okay, the feelings aren't fake._

_You know now._

_Just say it_.

Arthur sighed in defeat, scratching the back of his neck in what he could only assume was a distraction from the words that spilled from his mouth. 

"I think I might love you." 


	10. Fifty Shades of Yeehaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE LONG AWAITED HIATUS IS OVER MY FRIENDS!  
> Thank you guys so much for being as patient as you are! I hit a roadblock in the middle of writing this chapter, so I had to take a step away for awhile, lest the chapter come out sloppy and awfully written. That's why you've seen new works and such; I was trying to find my rhythm again. It worked, thank goodness, and I'm happy to say that this fic will be finished :)  
> Anyways enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> WARNING!  
> This chapter contains the long awaited NSFW, so be advised friends  
> P.S the chapter title is from my dearest friend ;)

Those words rang in Kieran's head like a bell in church. 

He... _he what?_

Kieran couldn't tell if it was the alcohol making him feel this confused yet giddy at the same time.  A giddiness that spreads throughout his body, makes his fingers shake in slight nervousness. 

Arthur shifted nervously, eyes searching for a probable escape.  They darted to the window, the door, and for a fleeting moment, Kieran wondered if the tense man was going to launch himself out of the small window on the one side.

_I think I might love you_

_I think I might love you_

_I think I might-_

Kieran processed it, digested the new information in slowly, eyes wide and watching Arthur blankly. Jaw slack, posture straightened. 

"I-I'm sorry...I overstepped my boundaries there..." Arthur said suddenly, hand rubbing the back of his neck with a forced smile, a _false_ smile, and he looked away from Kieran, the low lamplight exposing the shine of unshed tears in his eyes for only a brief moment, "Didn't mean-"

Kieran stepped forwards, brain a fog, limbs moving _completely_ on their own. His mind screamed at him that this was a bad idea, horrible idea, one that could likely get him _killed_. 

Arthur stopped talking immediately, jaw snapping shut so hard his teeth clacked together. Kieran saw a flash of hope cross over the other man's eyes. That, or _raw fear_.   

Kieran comes closer, hands grabbing Arthur's forearms in a tight grasp. He didn't mean to hold that tightly, fingers balling Arthur's shirt up; his body was on autopilot, and Kieran really couldn't stop himself from allowing Arthur to run a soft hand over his jawline, through his unruly beard, down his neck. The action seemed so innocent, yet it had Kieran's body shivering in delight.  He swallowed, and Arthur watched his Adam's Apple bob from the movement with flickering eyes. 

"That's funny-" He said, tried to say it without nerves warbling his voice, and flash of worry shot through Arthur's face.  It really wasn't a good look for the normally stoic man.  Arthur's hand fell to Kieran's shoulder, light, unsure, as though he was thinking about taking it back. Kieran swallowed, cleared his throat, "-Because I w-was also about to say..."

 _Christ_ , his mouth refused to work with him, refused to force the words past his tongue.  What a _mess_ he was.

"Fuck's sake." Kieran mumbled, and before Arthur could react, Kieran shoved the tall man down and smashed their lips together. Awkward, teeth clicking against each other, noses smushed.  It was all wrong angles, but for Kieran...it felt _right_.

Arthur grunted in surprise, hands flying up, but they soon rested on Kieran's hips, pulling him closer though they were already flush against each other.  Arthur tasted like fine expensive whiskey, his lips chapped and rough from years of exposure to the sun, and Kieran felt _intoxicated_ from the taste.  Their mouths moved in an unheard rhythm, Kieran's fingers entangling themselves in Arthur's soft hair.  What they were doing felt...right. Kieran dared to think it was  _natural_ almost. 

And Kieran wanted more.

The alcohol buzzed his systems, made everything seem warmer than it really was, made his skin tingle under Arthur's roaming hands.  They touched his waist, travelled up his body, slipped under his coat, cupped his sides, and Kieran couldn't help but press into the touch.  Everything was more sensitive, itchier.  He craved being touched, hadn't felt this level of affection nor warmth in forever. 

Arthur only pulled back to breath in sharply, lips shining in the low light of their room, puffy, slightly parted in disbelief.  His eyes watched Kieran's face, hands coming down to rest against his hips, Kieran's own grasping Arthur's hair with a feverish need.  They didn't speak as though they were afraid their words would break whatever calmness had come over them. 

Kieran's lips were met again by Arthur, and Kieran felt so happy, giddy, excited, positively drunk. Something inside him hoped he didn't come to his senses in the middle of this, didn't wake up from the haze the alcohol set. In retaliation to those thoughts, Kieran kissed back.

Something groped at his ass, and Kieran barely felt Arthur slowly walk him backwards to the small creaky bed they'd been graced with. When one was out in the mountains, sleeping on the cold hard ground with nothing but a thin sheet between them and the elements, they took what they could get. 

The back of Kieran's knees hit the bedframe and he was guided down, the mattress hard and the sheets stiff.  He wasn't about to complain though. 

Arthur's hands left his hips and seized his shirt, popping the buttons open enthusiastically, hastily.  Their lips never broke apart, not even when Kieran slid Arthur's suspenders down his shoulders so they hung loosely at his sides.  He grabbed Arthur's bandana wrapped around his neck and undid it with a pull to the knot tied in the back. Kieran's shirt felt loose on his body, hanging on his thin frame.   Those big calloused hands roamed Kieran's chest while they kissed with reckless abandon, and Kieran ignored how sore his jaw and lips were becoming.  Kieran plucked the last button on Arthur's shirt free and it slipped down his broad shoulders.  Arthur pulled back from Kieran for a second, noses brushing, and he shouldered the pesky thing off.  

Kieran caught a mere glimpse of his chest, marred with scars from both human and animal alike, some more prominent than others, dark freckles dotting his shoulders from years out under the sun.  That mouth-watering sight was blocked as Arthur wasted no time in diving for Kieran's mouth immediately after he shrugged his shirt off, only for a moment, before he moved down to Kieran's neck.   

Kieran gasped raggedly at the feeling, something heating up in the core of his stomach when the stubble of Arthur's chin tickled his neck, teeth scraping at the base of his throat before digging in entirely.  It was gentle, no growing pressure of pain, just tiny pin-pricks of his teeth.  Arthur's fingers rested against Kieran's stomach, massaging the flesh gently. 

Kieran, himself, had no idea what to do with his own hands, and they rested on Arthur's shoulders uselessly. He pressed his face into the top of Arthur's head, breathing hard, open mouthed.

Arthur suckled on his neck, bringing up the skin as he pulled away to move more downwards.  Kieran, high on ecstasy, barely felt him shove his shirt down to his elbow and mouth at the scar on his bicep he'd gotten from the mountains. It healed up nicely, a barely visible thing, but it was still a reminder of what had happened to him at the hands of Mr. Lake. 

Arthur kissed it softly, eyes glinting drunkenly up to Kieran, the low lamplight reflecting in his irises.  His tongue was warm against the risen bit of skin, ticking it slightly with the stubble of his chin. That sent shots of pleasure down his spine like a buckshot. 

Kieran didn't know what to do with his hands and rested them in Arthur's hair, curling them through the soft locks.  It was soft against his skin, if not a little greasy. Granted, they hadn't showered in god knows how long.

Arthur pulled away from his arm, the scar warm from his mouth.

"You're right.  There ain't a scar on ye." Arthur whispered. 

Kieran knew he had a few healing bruises from the mountains, knew he would have a few barely visible scars on his arms from those blasted burns. 

A finger traced along Kieran's side and he looked up to see Arthur's eyes raking down his body.  Well, his top-half anyway.  He knew he was skinny in comparison to Arthur; a mountain of a man leaning over what some would consider an easily snappable twig. 

"Jesus..." Arthur breathed, and Kieran had to really listen just to hear the man, "Handsome."

Kieran could smell the alcohol on his breath, whiskey shots and those few beers.  Intoxicated himself, it was heaven.  Those hands all over his body, the feel of the man's scruff as he bent down to kiss at Kieran's neck, the warmth of his body...

Kieran never knew he could be this elated. 

"You ain't too bad yourself." Kieran murmured, running a thumb down Arthur's gut. It was notable, with distinguishable muscles lining his sides.  Intoxicating, though Kieran was already drunk off his ass. 

Arthur scoffed into Kieran's neck, and he's very certain the other man rolled his eyes. When Arthur squeezed his thighs, Kieran's breath hitches. 

" _Too bad myself_ is an overstatement."

Kieran huffed a laugh that quickly turned into to a whine when Arthur brushed over his growing erection. 

"W-well, I think that you're-"

Kieran doesn't get to finish. Arthur planted his mouth onto Kieran's and they kiss again, deeper this time; Arthur a little more needy and Kieran a little more sloppy.  Fingers pick at the buttons on his jeans, smoothly undoing them.  Arthur's thumb rubbed him, pressed down into a gentle pressure.  Kieran fervently kisses Arthur harder, though he does not make a sound at the touch.

Before he knows it, his erection sprang free, rests against his belly, half-hard already like he were some cheap whore. His pants were tugged off past his ankles and thrown to the floor, a soft thud resounding from the belt buckle trapped in the loops. 

Now, he's completely naked, something he never thought he'd be in another man's presence.  Least, naked and nearly erect.  

It's not like Arthur hasn't seen _it_ before; Kieran could never forget the moment when he was nearly gelded, those heated tongs _waaay_ to close to his privates.   

But Arthur's eyes twinkled with something Kieran cannot identify when his hand wrapped around it. 

" _Jesus_ -" It's Kieran's turn to swear in a breathless, squeaky-high tone.  Those calloused hands create such a delicious friction that makes his toes curl and his stomach tighten, head thrown back with a soundless cry.  Kieran gripped at the hand Arthur was using, fingers digging into his skin on the man's wrist.  It's nearly too much for him, and that's exactly why Arthur kept going. 

There are no words; no words need to be spoken.  They just survived literal hell, danced around their feelings, and came back without losing their lives. 

It was all said when Kieran looked into Arthur's eyes.

He truly loved him.

Arthur's hand leaves just as Kieran feels the heat shoot throughout his core. It travelled downwards, between Kieran's legs, spreading them with thumb and forefinger. 

Kieran doesn't fight back.  He _needed_ this like he needed air to _breathe_. 

Suddenly, Arthur's gone for only a moment, and then his warm weight is back.  Kieran craned his head upwards and saw Arthur had hair pomade in his hands. The tangy smell of the pomade hit him like a train going full speed, and Kieran quirked an eyebrow.  Arthur didn't seem the type to grease hair pomade into his locks.  

"For Bill." Arthur answered his confused look, uncapping the tin and scooping up a copious amount with two fingers.

 _For Bill?_ His brain parroted in a disbelieving, aghast tone.

And before he could even stop himself, Kieran snorted a laugh.  Arthur looked up at him with surprise flooding his eyes until it changed into laughter. He barked a laugh. 

 _Relief_. Kieran knew that feeling like he knew the back of his hand.  Knew the overwhelming flood of emotions, so crushing, so powerful.

It was a moment, a tender moment filled with hearty chuckles, and it had Kieran forgetting his previous woes and heartaches.  Though, his current heartache was touching his sides, and planting firm, warm kisses on the underside of his neck that made him weak in the knees. A feeling he had not felt in such a long, _long_ time. 

"You sure?" Arthur asked in a husky voice, a gravelly voice that sent vibrations throughout Kieran. Kieran gulped for air, nodded, kissed Arthur again.

"I'm sure." Kieran said when he pulled back a few inches from Arthur's mouth. They made eye contact before Arthur moves his hand down there, lined up.

The pointer finger was cold, _freezing_ cold when it enters Kieran.  He hissed, nearly drew his hips back in retaliation, but he kept them planted firmly down.  No pain was felt, though the sensation was... _different._

Arthur waited until Kieran's adjusted, which does not take very long, before he added a second one. The burn started to intensify just a little bit, teetering on the edge of painful. Though, it was just teetering. Kieran could handle that.  He handled worse pain with Joshua Lake than this.

The two fingers moved, curled around, scissored.  It made Kieran wonder if Arthur had done this particular activity before.  One particular movement sent stars bursting around his eyes, a heat so unlike any other shooting down his body that it made Kieran jump. Arthur's eyes went wide before he did it again, a sick smirk playing his lips. That had Kieran keening at the sensation, fingers digging into the stiff mattress below, balling into fists. Kieran moaned in such a loud tone that he was worried people in the hotel heard their nightly... _activities_.

There's a third finger; Kieran felt it through the fog that had settled onto his head, made it cloudy and hard to focus. A drugged feeling, though Kieran knew it was from those cups of shots. Made him feel like putty.  Willing.   

And God did it feel _great_.

The pain edged slowly away into pleasure, melted into the other.  The heat in his core intensified, stomach tightening just a little bit when Arthur moved those digits around, poking and prodding.

_Searching._

Kieran gasped, locked eyes with a slightly shocked Arthur, and nodded without breaking the contact. 

 _Ready_. He doesn't need to say it.  There's understanding in Arthur's blue-green eyes, brilliant eyes. 

Arthur nodded back, withdrew his fingers (which leaves Kieran nearly whining at the loss), and positioned himself up. Leg over Arthur's shoulder, the other hanging by his hip. Arthur grips the inside of Kieran's knee, warm against the soft, tender skin.

Arthur nudged inside, just a little bit. It's even more bigger than those three fingers Arthur stuck inside him.  Even _better_.

The man watched Kieran closely, eyes searching for any sort of pain that might flicker across his eyes. Kieran's chest tightens, a single thought floating around in his head; _he cares_.  

There was pain, bearable pain, pleasurable pain.  Kieran smiled slightly, reached up and patted Arthur's face softly: "It's alright."

The man bowed his head. Kieran could feel Arthur mouthing at the sensitive flesh on his neck as he slowly drew his hips inwards.

Kieran nearly screamed in that deadly quiet hotel, nearly screamed Arthur's goddamn _name_. 

Arthur grunted in Kieran's ear, breath sharp, quick, and open-mouthed against his neck.  Kieran, however, was not nearly as composed as his partner.  Writhing, pawing at Arthur's shoulders, fingernails digging into the skin and leaving questionable marks...he was a sweaty, panting mess. Kieran's breathing was ragged and hoarse, tears pricking his eyes, trying to move with Arthur, trying to impale himself.  Arthur stopped that with a hand on his hip, steadying him, composing him.

"Easy." Arthur's voice is a crescendo of soft tones and intense underlying breathes.  Kieran anchored to it, softening his grip on Arthur's shoulders. 

Arthur gave him time to adjust.  He shifted, seated himself completely inside Kieran, and...stopped. Lets him adjust to the monstrous size, lets him calm his racing heart. Kieran is very glad the man does so; he feels as though he's splitting in two.  The burn lessens with each passing second, and each passing second melts into pleasure. Kieran released the breathe he's been holding with a loud gasp. 

"Go." Kieran whispered in a hoarse voice, a gulping voice.  Teeth dug lightly into Kieran's neck just as the moving began. Hips drew back, then push in just as slowly as before. 

Slow. Almost _loving_.

Kieran nearly starts crying.

Arthur's other hand gripped Kieran's hip, squeezing, rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb onto the warm flesh as he rocks.  It's another blight of touching, of sensation that fogs his brain up even more. 

Kieran whined in a low tone as Arthur's belly bumps into his neglected member, hard as a rock and laying proudly against his own stomach. Pre soaked him, ran down his sides, made it sticky.

And then the rough hand wraps around it.  Pumps in time with the slow rocks of Arthur's hips. Squeezes, draws up, draws up a moan from Kieran. He gripped Arthur's hair as his orgasm approached with fiery promise. A fierce promise. 

Arthur's breathing quickened and his pace lost its steady rhythm. Choppy, sharp, rabbit-quick...it made Kieran squirm in pleasure.  Tried to bring Arthur closer to him with his legs, which are still in two different positions.

Kieran's own breath caught in his throat as he orgasms, lungs refusing to draw breath back in, makes his chest burn along with his stomach.  A sharp gasp that develops right into a low cry flies from his mouth. He spilt over Arthur's hand, fingernails digging into the other man's shoulder blades, legs squeezing him closer.

It's not long before Arthur followed with a quiet moan, one that has Kieran wanting to hear more, _craved_ to hear more.  Those blasted teeth dig in again, a little harder this time, enough to make Kieran squirm. Arthur rode his own release out, draws every last drop before he pulls out completely, leaving Kieran feeling empty. 

Though not alone.  

Arthur does not move from on top of Kieran, doesn't even try to move from his position.  Kieran finally started to breathe normally, relaxing his fingers against Arthur's skin, let's them lay there. 

And Kieran...

 _I don't mind one bit_ , Kieran thought as he wrapped his arms around the broader man, thought as Arthur started mumbling tired nonsense in his ear. It tickled the hair beside his ears, warm and smelling sweetly of alcohol.

" _Thank you_." Was the last thing Kieran heard before he fell asleep in the warmth and safety of Arthur's arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, this is like my first time posting a porno? Very fun to write, 5/10 would maybe write one again.


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